


You Asked For It

by AGirlNamedEd



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-03 00:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 30,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11520279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGirlNamedEd/pseuds/AGirlNamedEd
Summary: Some of the requests I've gotten on Tumblr over the years. Generally either stupid or teeth-rottingly sweet with very little in between.





	1. Hat Shop (Trunks/Goten)

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by z-paladin, "Trunten #5 (in a hat shop). I'd think along the lines of seeing how many hats they can stack without getting kicked out."

“Hey, hey, Trunks, look.”

Trunks turned to see Goten in an expensive-looking top hat, a piece of his long hair pulled in front of his face to make it look like he had a mustache. “I say, old chap,” he said, in an absolutely godawful posh British accent, “that’s a bit of a sticky wicket, innit? Eh wot?”

The boys collapsed into giggles, Goten quickly abandoning the hat when the shop clerk looked over at them. “Oh, oh, here’s one,” Trunks said, grabbing a fedora and taking a stance like he was holding a whip. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and this hat belongs in a museum!”

Goten snorted, clapping his hands over his mouth. “What about this?” he asked, picking up a floofy, frilly, lacy pink thing that he was sure no one had worn in over a hundred years. He plopped it on his head and stood with his hands clasped in front of him, batting his eyes demurely up at Trunks. “Hey, doll,” he said, trying to raise his voice a few octaves and failing. “I’m single and lonely, want to show me a good time?”

Instead of laughing at him like Goten expected, Trunks blushed, swallowed, and looked away. “Uh, Trunks? Are you okay?” Goten asked, his voice dropping back to normal.

“Fine!” It came out a lot louder than Trunks meant for it to, attracting the sales clerk’s attention again. “Yep, I’m good,” he squeaked, still not looking at Goten. “So good.”

Goten frowned, then blinked as realization dawned. He laughed. “Oh my god, you’re _into_ this!”

“I am not!”

“You so are!” When Trunks still wouldn’t look at him, he leaned across the space between them and murmured, “What’s the matter? Don’t you think I’m pretty?”

Trunks _squawked_ and grabbed the hat off Goten’s head, tossing it back on the table. The store’s only employee was coming over to them, and Trunks grabbed his thoroughly embarrassing boyfriend’s hand and dragged him out of the store. “That’s enough hats for one day,” he declared. “Let’s go look at video games instead.”


	2. Unafraid (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "27 (I swear, I'm not scared) for Rice please. (.////.)"

“Yer tail’s poofin’ out again.”

Raditz wrapped it tighter around his waist, scowling at the floor. “No it’s not.”

Jeice grinned and shook his head. “What, you scared or somethin’?” he asked, knowing full well the answer his giant hairy boyfriend would give.

“I’m not _scared_.” He sounded affronted by the very idea. “A Saiyan doesn’t know fear.”

“Right,” Jeice said, more than a little patronizingly, “so that one time on Scarthax 8–”

“ _Was a fluke and you know it!_ ” Raditz’s tail uncoiled, fluffed out more than ever, and lashed back and forth behind him in aggravation. “I swear, I’m not scared. I’m worried. About you. You asshole.”

“Ditz.” Jeice stood right in his line of sight and took his hand. When Raditz finally looked at him, he smiled. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout me. You know I can take care of myself.”

Raditz shifted, but his tail stopped lashing. “I know.”

“And you know this is just a routine mission for the Force.”

The hair on his tail settled a little. “I know.”

“And you know I’ll have the others with me.”

He slowly wrapped his tail around Jeice’s wrist. “I know.”

Jeice floated up to kiss Raditz on the lips. “And you know I’ll come back safe, and that I love you.”

Raditz touched their foreheads together. “I know. Sorry that you have to do this every time you go on a mission–”

Jeice gently headbutted him, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make him stop talking. “You know well and good I don’t mind. If this helps you I’ll do it until the day we die.”

He frowned pensively at the ground. “I don’t know, I think I’m still a little worried.” He grinned impishly at Jeice. “But another kiss might help.”

Jeice rolled his eyes, but smirked. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, leaning forward to comply.


	3. Or We Could Make Out (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "59 (or we could make out...) for Radcha, please! <3 (also, dangit, why didn't this post register in my brain sooner?!)"

“Get off me, you goon.”

Raditz curled closer around Yamcha, burying his face in his boyfriend’s hair. “No.”

“Seriously, Raditz.” He lightly slapped his shoulder. “I have to get up now. Krillin and the guys will be here in a few hours and I have to get cooking. And what if Puar comes back from doing groceries and sees we haven’t even gotten up yet? We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Don’t care.” Raditz nuzzled his face against Yamcha’s. “Stay here with me.”

Yamcha sighed. He could easily _make_ Raditz move, but he really didn’t feel like it. “If I don’t get up, you’re not getting fed.”

Raditz propped his chin on Yamcha’s chest, looking up at him. “Look, your options are going to the kitchen and slaving away over a hot stove for a few hours…or you could stay here and we could make out.”

Yamcha’s face flushed. “Um.” Raditz’s tail brushed down his leg and a hand ghosted up under his nightshirt. “That, uh.” The other hand tangled in his hair and Raditz moved so he was over him and looking down at him, that look on his face that made Yamcha’s mouth go dry and his stomach flip over. He swallowed and reached up to take Raditz’s face in his hands, offering him a smile that was as devilish as he could manage while blushing this hard. “I guess the marinade can wait a _little_ longer.”


	4. I Warned You (Gohan/Videl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: 62 (I warned you. He warned you. Your freaking mom warned you.) for Gohan/Videl please

“I warned you.”

“I know.”

“ _He_ warned you.” Piccolo ignored them when Videl pointed to him, but he practically radiated judgement and disappointment.

Gohan resisted the urge to bury his head in his arms and try to disappear into the table. “I _know_.”

“Your freaking _mom_ warned you.”

“I KNOW!” Gohan hit his head on the table with a quiet _thunk_. “I know, I know, I know I know I know. I know!”

Videl folded her arms and crossed one leg over the other. “So it’s not happening again, right?”

“Yes Mom.”

He yelped when she smacked his shoulder. “Don’t you take that tone with me, young man.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered petulantly. “To be fair, though, it shouldn’t have blown up like that.”

“ _Literally everyone_ told you it probably would.” Videl shook her head. “You know our track record for stuff like this.”

“It shouldn’t have though!”

“But it did anyway!”

“When you two are done,” Chi-Chi interrupted, “the rest of us are trying to _pick up the pieces of my house_. If you’d be so kind as to help, that’d be great.”

The teenagers blushed and agreed never to speak of the incident again.


	5. Rain Dance (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "dance in the rain with Radcha?"
> 
> I drew on some of their Saiyan culture-building for this

Yamcha leaned on the doorway of the Briefs house, arms folded, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched Raditz. The saiyan was out in the middle of the yard, standing with his face turned towards the sky, arms stretched above him not to shield himself from the rain pouring from black clouds but to welcome it. He was always like this when it rained–it didn’t matter how cold it was, or what time of day, when it rained Raditz _had_ to go outside. He’d told Yamcha a bit about why once–rain was rare on Planet Vegeta, and held in such high regard that there were entire festivals built around it.

Having spent so many of his formative years in a desert, Yamcha could relate. Rain was life-giving and beautiful, whether it was a gentle drizzle or a raging thunderstorm. But, in Yamcha’s opinion, it was best observed from inside, preferably from a couch with a cup of tea or behind a kitchen window. He wasn’t a fan of being wet–possibly a side effect of being effectively raised by a cat.

A perfectly manicured hand rested on his shoulder. “You’re not going to join him?” Bulma asked. She had a steaming mug in her other hand, the big white one with “#1 MOM” in big letters on the side.

Yamcha shook his head. “No thanks. Rain, hair, they don’t mix.”

“Doesn’t seem to be bothering Raditz.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Saiyan hair is weird. It’ll dry in, like, ten minutes, despite how much there is. So unfair.” He kept his gaze on Raditz as he talked, his powerful, _beautiful_ figure out in the rain, almost serene…there were days when Yamcha still couldn’t believe they were together, even after all this time, and today was one of them. “Vegeta never does this, does he?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Bulma snorted. “Kami no. Neither does Goku. They probably don’t remember the rain festivals like Raditz does, though–they were pretty young when Frieza blew their planet up, after all.” She nodded towards Raditz. “Don’t look now, but he’s on his way.”

Yamcha had looked at Bulma while she answered, but now looked up to see Raditz loping towards them, grinning. He braced himself–he knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, Raditz had him by the hands, “come on, Yamcha, the still part is over, it’s time for the dance!” and he was dragging him out from the doorway and into the rain, laughing, and Yamcha couldn’t be mad at Raditz, not really, not about this, so he laughed too as Raditz spun them around a few times before pulling him in for a proper Earth waltz, just like Yamcha had showed him last time. He rested his hand on Raditz’s shoulder, and Raditz’s hand went to his waist, and one-two-three one-two-three around the yard, Raditz’s forehead gently resting on Yamcha’s. And sometimes they stepped on each other’s feet (dancing wasn’t something either of them were good at) and Yamcha was already soaked to the bone (he’d kill Raditz later if he got a cold because of this) but that didn’t matter–not to either of them, not now.

Rain was life-giving and beautiful.


	6. Too Tall (Krillin/Android 18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by z-paladin: ""why are you so tall, stop!" k18"

There were always way too many dishes to do at Kame House. Considering how many people lived there, it wasn’t a big surprise, but it _was_ a huge pain. 18 sighed as she scrubbed at something on the bottom of a pot–sometimes it was so hard to tell what was a stain and what was actual food stuck to things. Oh, well. At least she couldn’t get dishpan hands.

Her husband stood next to her, his head barely clearing the counter. He always helped her dry when it was her turn for dishes and vice-versa. They didn’t have to, and Oolong always complained that it wasn’t fair, but they always did (and told Oolong that when he found a nice pig girlfriend then _she_ could help him with the dishes).

“Hey, uh…”

18 looked down at Krillin. Honestly it was still a little comical, being this much taller than her husband. She wasn’t even particularly tall, but she was easily twice his height. It was kind of adorable watching him struggle with it, particularly when his friends teased him about it. Now, his face was red, looking up at her, and he was up on his toes, stretching up towards her.

She finished rinsing the last pot and folded her arms at him, leaning one hip against the counter. “What?”

He scowled up at her and she smirked. She knew _exactly_ what he wanted, and she was going to make him work for it, dammit.

Sighing, he put down the dish he was drying and wiped his hands on the dishtowel. “Why are you so tall,” he muttered, “stop that.” But he floated on up to gently press their lips together anyway.


	7. Tea Time (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "I am SO taking advantage of what you just said. ;) Have a cream tea and Rice. 8D"

“Ow!” Raditz cradled his hand where Jeice had slapped it. “What was _that_ for?”

Jeice propped his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to put the _cream_ on first, you dolt! You were reaching for the _jam_!”

Raditz frowned. “Cream? How are you supposed to put _cream_ on a bun?”

“ _Scone_.”

“Fine, _scone_. Cream’s a liquid. It doesn’t go on bread products.”

Jeice blinked, then giggled, hiding it behind a hand. Raditz’s frown deepened into a full-on scowl, but he couldn’t really get mad when Jeice was being adorable like this. “It’s _clotted_ cream, Ditz,” he explained, reaching across the tiny table strewn with small plates of buns ( _scones_ ), teacups, and dishes of strawberry jam and some weird white stuff. “Here, give me your scone. I’ll show you.”

Gingerly, Raditz picked up the round, hard bread thing he’d grabbed at the start of the meal, such as it was (there was scarcely enough food there for Jeice, let alone a hungry Saiyan) and handed it across the table. Jeice deftly broke it in half, then scooped a dollop of the white stuff (cream?) onto each half, topping it off with a blot of jam and handing them back to Raditz, who deposited them gently on his plate.

“Oh.” Raditz blinked down at them, then watched Jeice go about getting a scone ready for himself. “So the order is important, then?”

Jeice nodded solemnly, somewhat undercut by the fact that he then bit one of his scone halves in half and swallowed without chewing. “Very.” He pointed at Raditz’s tiny plate. “You gonna eat that, mate? Because if you don’t get going, I’m gonna eat all of these myself.”

Raditz scooped one up, never one to back down from a challenge, and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. “Holy hell this is good,” he said, crumbs spraying across the table.

Jeice kicked him under the table. “Don’t talk with your mouth full! Honestly, Ditz, I know you’ve never had a cream tea before but you’ve gotta learn these things if you’re going to join the Ginyus for our daily one tomorrow!”


	8. Lunchtime (Gohan/Videl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Also, buy each other food and Gohan/Videl?"

“Don’t worry about it, I’m rich.”

“But–”

“I _said_ , don’t worry about it!” Videl frowned and pointed at the menu at the noodle stand. “I’m buying you lunch today and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Technically–”

“Oh don’t even start.” She turned to the frazzled-looking employee and said “We’ll have one of everything, please.”

“O-of course,” he said, hurrying away to start cooking.

“Videl, please.” Gohan looked pained. “I can’t let you spend all that money on me.”

“And yet, you will.” She turned back to him and fingered the ends of her short hair. It had been a little while, but she was still getting used to it. “You have to eat a lot, right? I know you guys aren’t super well off and feeding two– _three_ now–aliens with huge stomachs must be hell on your mom.” Videl shrugged. “Like I said, I’m rich. Don’t worry about it.” Face heating suddenly, she looked back at the counter. “You’ve taught me so much, been so nice to me even after I… _blackmailed_ you and you’re still hanging out with me and…it’s just nice to have a fighting friend who’s not a total idiot.”

Gohan laughed, and she knew he knew exactly who she was talking about. “Sharpner’s not _that_ bad.”

She glared at him, but she was smirking. “Please. Remember who we’re talking about. He’s the worst. At least you’re just weird because you’re a nervous nerd. He’s weird because he’s a moron.” Videl propped her chin on her hand and looked into Gohan’s eyes. “You know,” she said, “you’ve put up with a lot of shit, haven’t you?”

He shifted uncomfortably, but to his credit didn’t break eye contact. Her face flushed again. “That’s one way of putting it, yeah.”

“Then you deserve for someone to buy you lunch every now and then.” She smiled, and it wasn’t like her smirk earlier, she could feel how soft it was on her face, and it was so weird, because for so long the softer emotions were things to be ignored, but Gohan–Gohan reveled in them, and it made her want to too. “I know you don’t believe that,” she added, because he didn’t, “but it’s true.”

Gohan looked like he was going to say something, but a sharp “One order of everything!” interrupted their conversation and suddenly there were plates and bowls of beautiful steaming food to distract them from the suddenly serious conversation.


	9. Don't You Dare (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by katiequartz: "“if you die, i’ll kill you” w/ Radcha?"

Lips and teeth clashed, hands grabbed, Raditz’s tail wrapped protectively around Yamcha’s waist. They only had a few fleeting moments together before they had to join the others for the Cell Games, and both were fully aware that they might be their last.

Pulling away from Raditz’s mouth, Yamcha clutched his love’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you,” he said. “So much, okay? I can’t say it enough–I love you, I love you, I–”

Raditz’s mouth was on his again, but it was softer this time, sweeter, and his one hand tangled in Yamcha’s hair, what little he had left now, the other stroking down Yamcha’s back. Yamcha hummed a little and pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Raditz’s neck.

“You too,” Raditz said when they broke apart again, one hand on Yamcha’s cheek. “I love you too, more than words can ever say, and I want you to promise me you’ll never forget that, no matter what happens today, alright?”

Yamcha’s eyes widened at the sudden realization that Raditz didn’t expect to survive. “Hey.” His hands were back to Raditz’s face. “You’ll be fine, got it? We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes before.” They hadn’t. They both knew it. “We’ll be fine.” There was no guarantee of that. They both knew it. “And if you die…if you die, I’ll kill you, you got that?!” It made no sense and they both knew it.

But Raditz smiled, that sad smile he got sometimes, the one that made Yamcha’s heart seize, the one that had first made him wonder what really made Raditz tick behind all that bravado, the one that he told himself he was going to single-handedly keep off Raditz’s face forever. He smiled and kissed Yamcha’s forehead. “I could say the same to you.”


	10. Old Movies (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Whoops, back again, last one I swear - watch old movies and Rice."

“This is so hokey.”

Raditz frowned. “Hey, I like it.”

Jeice gestured wildly at the TV screen. “But look at this! How come one bloke gets to go pretend to be some fancy-pants sea captain and the other one has to go dancing with an old codger?”

“But he falls for the old guy anyway–just watch the movie.”

Pouting, Jeice snuggled into Raditz’s side and glared at the television. “ _I_ wanted to watch Psycho.”

“We can’t always watch horror movies. A good romantic comedy is good for the soul.”

“Great. When can we watch one?”

“Jeice!”

“You’ve been spending too much time hangin’ ‘round with Gohan,” he grumbled. “’A good rom-com is good for the soul’ my left ass cheek!”

“ _Jeice!_ ”


	11. Dance Tactics (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "For when you wake up - have a discussion about something one of them is passionate about and Rice. 8)"

Jeice bounced on his toes and gestured wildly as he talked. “No, see, it gets _better_! Because after _that_ the Captain does this little dance, y’see–” he paused to demonstrate– “and then we pose! It’s _brilliant_ ; the best one Captain Ginyu’s come up with so far! I’m so excited!”

Raditz nodded, more than a little bewildered. He had no idea what he’d just listened to–all he’d said was “how was your day” and suddenly Jeice was launching into an animated talk with gestures and poses and dances and Raditz was a little surprised he hadn’t pulled out a slideshow presentation.

But hey, it made Jeice happy, if his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes were anything to go by, not to mention the grin threatening to split his face in two. And even if he didn’t always understand it, if it made Jeice this happy, that was enough for him to care about it too.

“Wow,” he said, trying to sound suitably impressed. “I can’t wait to see it in action.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but Jeice’s grin got even bigger and Raditz’s stomach did that weird funny twist it did sometimes when he saw that he’d made Jeice happy. “Do ya want to see it? I can go get the guys and we’ll give you a personal showing!”

Before Raditz could say either way, Jeice had grabbed his hand and they were off, Jeice still chattering away as Raditz walked next to him, smiling and shaking his head.


	12. Kin (Piccolo/Vegeta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by margiepm: "*have a discussion about something one of them is passionate about Piccolo/Vegeta (i hope you are still doing this tomorrow ;_;)"

“I still don’t get it.”

Piccolo didn’t take his eyes off Gohan’s retreating figure as he answered Vegeta. “What is there not to understand? For all intents and purposes, he’s my son as much as he is Goku’s or Chi-Chi’s.”

“Yeah, that’s the part I don’t get.” Vegeta was next to him now, hands in his pockets. Piccolo watched him from the corner of his eye. The prince was squinting off after Gohan, the gears in his head clearly working overtime. “You say you think of him as your own kin. But you’re not even of the same species, let alone bloodline.”

“You of all people know species and bloodline have nothing to do with family.”

A look came across Vegeta’s face, but it was gone before Piccolo could determine what it meant. “For Saiyans, blood is everything.”

“So you’ve said.” Piccolo looked back out over the desert. “For Namekians, blood means nothing.”

Vegeta’s derisive snort wasn’t entirely unexpected. “Of course it doesn’t.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the whistle of the wind. “Gohan is my progeny by everything aside from blood,” Piccolo finally said quietly. “Did I ever tell you that I trained him first?”

“You might’ve mentioned it.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Piccolo and his mouth tipped up in a smile despite himself. Clearly he’d brought it up more than a few times.

“At first it was out of revenge against Goku.” Beside him, Vegeta started. Apparently, Piccolo had never told him the full story. But then again, there had never been a real reason to. “I knew he had enormous potential–the fight with Raditz showed that. But I wanted to train him in _my_ image, partly as a big middle finger to his father, a “look at your son and see what _I_ have made him.” But…” He sighed and looked down at his boots. “It was also because I knew I would die soon, whether it was because of you or because the old fart just up and bit the dust. And like my father, I wanted something of myself left behind.” He scoffed. “I’m more like him than I like to think sometimes, I guess.”

Another silence followed, shorter than the last, interrupted when Vegeta said “You’re soft” with no edge to it whatsoever.

Piccolo looked at him properly since the start of the conversation. Vegeta’s hands had come out of his pockets, but his eyes were distant, and Piccolo could almost see the Trunks of the future reflected in them.

“Maybe,” he conceded, reaching down to hold one of Vegeta’s hands in his own, “but you’re no better.”


	13. Motorcycle Lessons (Tien/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“if i get on that motor-bike i’m 500% sure i’ll die” with Lunch and Tien?"

“No.”

Lunch patted the motorcycle seat again, a wicked grin on her face. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Tien backed up, shaking his head. “No way. If I get on that thing I’m 500% sure I’ll die.”

She scoffed, flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder. “Please, you’re practically indestructible, and you can fly. Worst case scenario you crash the thing and it blows up and we get you one of those bean things and you’re good.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” he muttered. “I’m not getting on that thing, Lunch. Can’t we do something besides motorcycle lessons?”

“Hey,” she started, pointing at him like she was about to lecture, when suddenly her face scrunched up and she sneezed violently.

Tien tried to keep his sigh of relief as unnoticeable as possible when Black Lunch looked up at him from the other side of the motorbike. “What just happened?” she asked, blinking.

“Nothing,” he quickly assured her, paling when she looked down at the bike and ran her hand over the leather seat.

“Oooh! Motorcycle lessons!” She beamed up at him and patted the seat while he screamed internally. “Come on, Tien, hop on! Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you the whole time!”


	14. A Case of the Giggles (Goku/Chi-Chi/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "giggling at each other - Goku/Chichi/Yamcha ;D"

Sometimes, Yamcha thought, it was nice to not have anywhere to go, anything to do, to just sit and _be_. And it was even better when you had someone to sit and _be_ with.

Which was 100% why he wasn’t moving from this spot on the couch until Chi-Chi did–having her curled into his side like this was so comforting and relaxing; he felt both protective of her and protected by her. What with one world-ending event or another, there was almost always somewhere to go or something to do, training, fighting, working, Dragon Ball hunting, that these quiet moments were to be cherished more than any gold.

She let out the smallest sigh, and he looked down at her to see her contented smile that matched his own, her eyes closed as she drowsed against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair (hanging loose around her shoulders for once, something that always made his heart race) and, not for the first time, wondered what he’d done to deserve her–deserve _them_.

Speaking of “them…”

“Hey!”

Goku had appeared in the doorway leading in from outside, wearing the pants of his tracksuit and nothing else, his usual easy grin on his face. “You didn’t say there was cuddling goin’ on in here!”

Chi-Chi opened her eyes to smile up at Goku, but she didn’t move, so neither did Yamcha. “Hi, dear.”

Goku bounced over to them and wriggled in between them, throwing one arm around each of them and pulling them close. “You guys’ve gotta _tell_ me when this stuff is happening,” he complained. “Otherwise I’m not gonna know this stuff.”

Yamcha couldn’t help it–the half-hurt half-contented look on Goku’s face was just…cute. A giggle escaped him, and that got Chi-Chi going, and the two of them were soon sitting there giggling into Goku’s chest. Even though he probably wasn’t sure what was so funny, soon Goku was laughing too, and they curled up on the couch together, a happy, laughing, _loving_ tangle.


	15. Two Tall (Goku/Chi-Chi/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by fullbattleregalia: "“why are you so tall, stop!” Goku/ChiChi/Yamcha, please! (If you're still taking requests, that is!)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE

When they’d first moved into their house, one of the first things Chi-Chi noticed was the cupboard height in the kitchen.

It was going to be a problem, she’d decided immediately, because they’d clearly been built for someone much taller than 5′ 4. A stepstool solved the problem for the most part, but even now all these years later, she apparently still hadn’t learned that she couldn’t reach things at the very back of the top shelf even with its added height.

This is why she was clambering onto the kitchen counter, even though she was far too old for this nonsense, because Goku and Gohan and Yamcha were all outside training and like _hell_ was she going to go get one of them to help her reach the damn sugar. At least no one was around to see her with her dress hitched up and stretching and she _still_ couldn’t reach, dammit!

A long arm wrapped around her shoulders from behind and she shrieked, her elbow flying back to smack whoever it was in the face from sheer instinct. There was a thunk, and an “ow!” and the arm released her. She turned to see Goku reeling backwards, a hand clutching his forehead. “What was that for?” he whined.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” she snapped, one hand to her chest. She could feel her heart racing under her hand. He’d really startled her. “Oh, come on now,” she added when he continued carrying on and rubbing his head, “you ain’t really hurt.”

He pouted up at her. “Sure I am. Kiss it better.”

Chi-Chi laughed. She could hardly ever stay angry with Goku for long. Adjusting herself so she was sitting on the counter, legs dangling, she held out her arms. “Come here, then.”

He came closer and she took his face in her hands, noting with some pride that from this position she was actually taller than him, and she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “There,” she said, pulling away. “All better.”

At that moment, Yamcha stuck his head into the kitchen. “Everything alright? Chi-Chi, what’re you doing on the counter?”

“I was _tryin’_ to get the sugar down,” she said, “but this big lug came along and startled me.”

“Oh, is that all.” Yamcha sauntered in with his hands in his pockets. “I thought something was wrong.”

She folded her arms. “Fine, no pie for you then _WHAT ARE YOU DOING_ ”

Yamcha had leaned around both her and Goku to easily grab the sugar from the back of the top shelf, pressing close to both of them as he did so. Chi-Chi’s face flamed at being pressed so close between two men–two _very attractive_ men–only one of whom she was married to. She glanced at Goku, who was smiling and looking at the two of them as if nothing was wrong–as if this was how things were _supposed_ to be.

She swallowed as Yamcha leaned back and presented her with the sugar. “All you had to do was ask, you know,” he said casually.

Chi-Chi grabbed the sugar, trying to hide how her hands were shaking. Those were definitely thoughts to pick apart another day–or ignore forever, that was also an option. “Why are you so tall,” she muttered, hopping down off the counter and bustling off to hide her red face, “stop.”


	16. Paparazzi (Goku/Chi-Chi/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by fullbattleregalia: "33 (did that person just take a picture of us?) with Gochicha, please?"

Chi-Chi scanned the grocery list in her hand, then the contents of the basket she held with the other. Well, she had all the items _she_ was supposed to get. Time to go see how the boys had fared.

It was a lot faster doing groceries with help–usually she went by herself, or sent Goku, but ever since she’d started dragging Goku and Yamcha with her things had started going a lot quicker. Yamcha (bless him) had had the brilliant idea to split the list between them, which was why she was now wandering the crowded supermarket looking for her husband and live-in helper. (She’d be sorry to see Yamcha go for many reasons–his company, his smile, his effortless charm, how good he was with Gohan–but she’d be lying if she said she wouldn’t also miss how much he helped out around the house. He said he felt guilty crashing on their couch after the breakup with Bulma, especially for so long, without doing anything to pay them back, and he was surprisingly good at housework.)

Chi-Chi found Yamcha with relatively little trouble. He was in the dairy aisle, holding two cartons of milk and frowning. Apparently, he was trying to decide whether to get 1% (which was better for you) or 2% (which he felt tasted better). Chi-Chi sighed and told him it wasn’t too big of a deal, but took the 1% anyway. Then they went to look for Goku.

Goku, as usual, was a lot harder to find, because he’d gotten distracted on the way to the meat counter and was looking at fish. When they got there, he turned those big dark puppy eyes on her and she had to look away to remind herself that they had plenty of fish where they lived already.

It was when they finally reached the meat counter that the incident occurred.

A flash went off just to the right. Chi-Chi paid it no mind until Yamcha said “Did someone…just take a picture of us?”

She looked around and sure enough, someone was waving a Polaroid frantically and hustling away. Chi-Chi started after him, but Goku was in front of her before she got three steps and Yamcha was right on his heels. She pushed through the crowd after them anyway, shouting that they’d left her with the groceries _again_ and dammit, she didn’t have enough hands for this!

By the time she got there, the boys had cornered their personal paparazzo in the condiment aisle. He looked to be only around 19, 20 at most, and terrified out of his wits. Chi-Chi frowned. She had no idea what there was to be afraid of, Goku and Yamcha were gentle souls and wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.

She took another quick look at the two men. Oh. Right. They were both built like trucks.

“I-I’m really sorry,” the man stammered, holding the photo to his chest. “I just–you’re all– _I’m a really big fan of the Tenkaichi Budokai and_ –”

Chi-Chi sighed and massaged a temple. She was starting to get a headache. “Give us the picture and don’t do it again.”

The man shoved the picture at Goku and took off, camera bouncing against his chest. Chi-Chi shook her head and looked up at her companions. “Well, thank you for chasing him down, but I don’t see why you had to go chargin’ off and leavin’ me with all the groceries.”

Goku giggled sheepishly. “Sorry, Chi!” He pecked her on the cheek and took his basket back. Yamcha shrugged just as sheepishly and took his. “I just…didn’t want some guy taking our picture for no reason.”

She cocked her head. “I didn’t think you’d mind. You’ve never been a private person.”

“Oh, _I_ didn’t care.” Goku shrugged.

“Me neither,” Yamcha added. “I just thought you might.” Goku nodded.

Chi-Chi flushed. “Well. Then. I guess it’s good I have such considerate men in my life.” She plucked the photo from Goku’s hand and looked it over. “It’s not a bad picture, all things considered, but really it’d be nicer to have a better one of us.”

“Yamcha too, right?” Goku asked.

Now it was Yamcha’s turn to blush. “Well I wouldn’t want to intrude–”

“Yes,” Chi-Chi interrupted, turning to smile at Yamcha. The man was practically part of the family at this point anyway–anything beyond this would just be making it official. “Yamcha too.”


	17. From the Closet (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“oh, remember when you used to wear that all the time? Good times.” Radcha. ;)"

“Hey, Yams, guess what I found.”

Yamcha glanced over his shoulder at his husband in the doorway connecting the kitchen and the living room. “Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the apartment? That was the deal–I cook, you clean.”

Raditz waved vaguely, keeping one hand behind his back. “Yeah, but I found this and thought I’d bring it out. Seriously, take a look.”

Yamcha gently set the mixing bowl down and wiped his hands on his apron before fully turning towards Raditz. “Alright, what did you find?”

Beaming, the saiyan produced a bright orange piece of clothing from behind his back. “Ta-da! Your very first Turtle uniform! Remember when you used to wear this all the time? Good times.” He looked very proud of himself.

Yamcha, on the other hand, had mentally blanked. “Oh.” He stared at the old gi–it was so _small_ , had he really grown so much since he first trained with Roshi? It was worn and thin, especially at the shoulders and knees, and he’d never washed it (for luck). Right over his heart was the _kame_ symbol, black on a faded yellow background.

“I never saw you in _this_ one,” Raditz continued, turning it around so Yamcha could see the back of it, “since, you know, hadn’t been to Earth at that point. But I’ve seen pictures. I didn’t think you still had it! I knew you still had your newer one, even though you don’t fight much anymore, but I didn’t know you still had this one.” He looked back at Yamcha. “Hey, you okay?”

Wordlessly, Yamcha nodded. A wave of nostalgia had just washed over him was all–back then, things had been so _simple_. He was going to train hard and surpass Goku and he and Bulma would get married and he’d be the world’s best martial artist and it’d be great.

Except none of that had happened. No matter how hard he trained, he just kept watching that gap between his power and Goku’s widen and widen. His on-again-off-again relationship with Bulma became permanently “off-again.” He couldn’t defend himself in battle against half the enemies they came up against, and he ended up giving up on his dream. Again.

Although, he thought as Raditz gently laid the uniform over a chair and came over to make sure he _was_ alright and not just saying so like he did a lot, one thing had come true–

Raditz planted a kiss on Yamcha’s forehead and he grinned.

Things were pretty great.


	18. Warm (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“you’re very warm… It’s nice.” Radcha, nsfw is okay, but sfw is also okay. ;)"
> 
> (It ended up being sfw)

When Raditz woke up, the first thing he registered was that he was in a _bed_. An actual bed, with a mattress and headboard and everything. Good gods, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a real bed–he’d gotten so used to couch-surfing and spare futons and occasionally sleeping in trees that he’d almost forgotten what an actual mattress (with sheets on it, even) felt like.

The second thing he realized was that there was someone curled into his side.

He closed his eyes, counted to five, and opened them again. Yep, Yamcha was still there, naked as the day he was born and pressed against him in all the right ways. His hair was mussed and his face was smushed against Raditz’s shoulder and one arm was curled to his chest and the other was stretched across Raditz’s chest, as though trying even in his sleep to keep Raditz from getting up and leaving him.

Raditz was not an emotional person, but his breath caught in his throat as he gazed down at Yamcha’s still sleeping face and realized that yes, all that last night had happened, it wasn’t some dream or a product of his imagination, he and Yamcha had–

_“I think I love you,” Yamcha said, flushed with embarrassment but meeting Raditz’s eyes, never one to back down from a challenge._

_“I **know** I love you,” Raditz confessed, tail loosening from around his waist and reaching to coil around Yamcha’s wrist instead. “I’ve known that for a while now.”_

_Really flustered now, Yamcha flinched and looked down at where Raditz had a hold on his wrist. “W-well why didn’t you say anything then?!”_

_“Because I wanted **you** say it first.”_

_Shaking his head, Yamcha reached his free hand out to hold Raditz’s. “You’re a dick.”_

_Raditz leaned down and pressed their foreheads together and oh, **contact**. How he’d wanted this for so long– “But you love me, right?”_

_Grinning up at him, Yamcha leaned forward to murmur against his lips “You know it” before pressing them together._

_And then it was a contest, a contest to see who could get to the bed first, who could get the other’s clothes off fastest, to touch the most, **feel** the most, and then Yamcha was clinging to him and crying out in his arms and Raditz couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so **good** –_

“Hey.”

Raditz jolted out of his memory at Yamcha’s sleepy voice beside him. He was clearly only just awake, squinting tiredly up at him with the smallest of smiles. “G’morning,” he mumbled. A piece of Raditz’s hair was caught in his mouth. He made no move to remove it, and neither did Raditz.

“Good morning yourself.” His own voice was gravelly with sleep, but it still made Yamcha’s smile just a little brighter and he snuggled further into Raditz’s side, eyes sliding shut again.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled. “It’s nice.”

Raditz curled an arm around the man he loved and rested his cheek on top of his head. “So are you.”


	19. Group Project (Goku/Chi-Chi/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "GROUP PROJECT - Gochicha!"
> 
> (From a college AU prompt list)

Chi-Chi buried her face in her arms. “This is never getting done. We’re all going to fail and it’s going to be Vegeta’s fault.”

Yamcha patted her sympathetically on the back. “At least he’ll fail with the rest of us, if it makes you feel better.”

“I’ve never failed anything in my life!” she wailed. “I can’t fail this project, I just can’t! My pa would be so disappointed in me and it’d go on my permanent record and–”

Goku leaned over from across the table, a frown very out of place on his usually grinning face. “Hey now, there’s still time! All we’ve gotta do is write the rest of the essay, build a model, paint the poster, and write up our group evaluations! How long could that possibly take?”

Chi-Chi glared balefully up at her boyfriend. “Goku, it’s nearly midnight.”

He turned to Yamcha pleadingly. Of the four of them, Yamcha was always the most level-headed and practical. If anyone was going to make them get things done tonight before they handed it in in less than twelve hours, it was Yamcha.

Sighing so hard Chi-Chi swore she saw his soul depart his body for a few seconds, Yamcha stood. “I’ll go put on a pot of coffee.”

Goku beamed at him as he left the room, then turned back to Chi-Chi. “See, Chi? If we all work real hard at it–”

“You’re part of the problem too, you know,” she muttered. “If you and Vegeta hadn’t argued so much and you both hadn’t _insisted_ on doin’ things on your own, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He thought for a minute. “I guess. You’re right, Chi. I’m sorry.”

“Though Vegeta’s more of a problem,” Chi-Chi admitted, sitting up and tugging her hair out of its bun. “If he weren’t so damn proud he could’ve actually been helpful.”

“Um.”

Yamcha was red-faced in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room. He shook himself and looked away from where Chi-Chi was running her fingers through her hair to ask “Where do you guys keep your coffee filters?”

“I’ll get it,” Chi-Chi said, standing. “Goku, if we’re gonna get this done tonight, you’d better get started on the poster.”

Goku flashed her a peace sign. “No problem!” He bounced to his feet (why did he still have so much energy, Chi-Chi thought, it wasn’t fair) and hurried off to grab the paints.

Chi-Chi pushed past Yamcha and into the kitchen, noticing how he watched Goku go for a moment before turning back to her. “Filters’re on the top shelf above the coffeemaker,” she said, pointing. She leaned back to let Yamcha grab them–he was taller than she was–and to gather her courage before speaking again. “Yamcha,” she said slowly, “we should talk.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “What, now? We’ve got too much to do–you heard Goku, we’ve gotta build a model, and we have to finish that pitiful excuse for an essay Vegeta left us, and–”

“No, not now,” she amended–this was a bad idea, even if she and Goku had been discussing it before everything went to hell. “After all this is done and we can all breathe again, we should talk.”

“Okay.” Yamcha went back to the coffeemaker. “Damn–shit–Chi-Chi, how–”

“Let me,” she sighed, “this damn thing’s more temperamental than a cat with gout.” She gently pushed him away from the machine and shooed him back into the sitting area. “You get on that model, then when this is finished I’ll get on the essay.”

~~~

“I’m gonna sleep for a week,” Yamcha moaned. “Scratch that–I’m going to sleep and I’m not getting up for a hundred years.”

“Same,” Goku yawned. “Food first, though. I want sixteen hamburgers, and then a nap.”

“I just hope the professor takes what we said about Vegeta on the group evaluation seriously,” Chi-Chi sighed. The three of them shuffled down the hallway with all the enthusiasm of a trio of drowned rats in the general direction of the cafeteria. “If I weren’t so worried about it affecting my grades I’d murder him myself.”

Yamcha laughed, punctuating it with a yawn. “Okay I’m _this_ close to forgoing food altogether and skipping straight to the nap.” Goku looked at him like he had two heads and Chi-Chi suppressed a giggle. Goku was always up for a meal. Then Yamcha looked over at her. “Oh yeah, you wanted to talk to me about something?”

Her face flamed. She’d forgotten that after all this was over she and Goku were going to have a discussion with Yamcha–and she’d privately hoped he’d forget, too, because this was going to be embarrassing. “Well, I–that is–we were–me and Goku–we were hoping you’d–”

“Do you wanna go out with us?” Goku asked. “We really like you, see, and Chi-Chi says you like us too, so we thought maybe we should all go out together and–Yamcha, are you okay?”

Yamcha had not only stopped walking, he’d involuntarily sat down on the floor. “I…you…what…” He stared up at them, eyes pleading. “This isn’t a joke, right? Or some horrible group project stress induced hallucination?” His eyes turned hard. “Did Bulma put you up to this?”

“What? No!” Chi-Chi squatted beside him, setting her books to the side and laying a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked down to her hand, then up to her face, then to Goku’s. “Yamcha, we–while the three of us were all working together we–we sort of fell in love with you.” Goku nodded in her peripheral vision. “Would you at least think about it?”

“No.”

His answer was abrupt and piercing. Chi-Chi took her hand off his arm, and a quick glance at Goku’s face confirmed he felt just as shattered as she did. This had been a bad idea, she knew it would’ve been better to love from afar than to lose him entirely–

He grabbed her hand before she got too far. “No, sorry, I–I won’t think about it because there’s nothing to think about,” he clarified. “I would–that is to say–I–yes.” Yamcha took a deep breath and squeezed her hand looking shyly up at her from under his eyelashes. “Yes.”

She felt a smile spreading across her face even as Goku let out a whoop and swooped down to kiss them both on the cheeks. Several passing students eyed them warily, but none of the trio cared. Not as long as they were together.

And they didn’t have any more group projects to do.


	20. Cookies (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: ":D YOU WANT TO DO SOME COLLEGE AU HUH? Rice and the "I made too many cookies for the bake sale and still couldn’t get rid of all of them in my other classes so now I am going to force some on you" one please?"

Someone was talking, but thanks to prolonged exposure to Vegeta, Raditz had perfected the art of tuning out the voices around him. He didn’t have time to be distracted; there were tests to study for. The only reason he was out in his floor’s common room was because it was practically never used and Vegeta was being even more obnoxious than usual. He’d hoped that working in the common area would get him a little peace and quiet so he could focus.

“I said _hey_ , you bloody wanker!”

Apparently not.

Raditz lifted his head to glare at whoever this rude Australian guy shouting at him was. “What?” he asked flatly.

The man was short (well, compared to Raditz, anyway, but so were most people, and he was at least taller than Vegeta), had white hair up in a puff of a ponytail, and looked about ready to explode. “I’ve only been trying to get your attention for–” he checked his watch– “five minutes! Pay more attention!”

He bit back a sigh. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was interrupting Raditz’s _very important_ study time, he would’ve thought the guy was kind of cute. “And you came over just to tell me to pay attention?”

“Of course not!” The man dropped a zip-lock plastic bag of cookies on the table next to Raditz. “Here.”

Raditz blinked uncomprehendingly at the cookies for a good three seconds before looking back up at the other man. “What are these?”

“Cookies, ya numb-nuts.”

“Well I knew _that_ ,” Raditz snapped. “Why are you giving them to me?”

He shrugged, folding his arms and cocking his hip to one side nonchalantly. “Don’t read too much into it,” he said. “Made too many for the squad’s bake sale, couldn’t pawn ‘em all off on my classmates, saw you in here, thought I’d drop some off.”

“Squad?” Raditz said. His eyes suddenly caught the white and brown shirt he was wearing, the school’s name emblazoned on the front in gold. “What, you’re an athlete or something?”

The man puffed himself up even further. “Cheerleader, thank you very much! Got a problem with that?”

Raditz’s face went red as he suddenly recognised him–he was Jeice, one of the five male cheerleaders at the school. They were incredibly popular amongst the student body–the leader, Ginyu, in particular. He’d always found that odd and once remarked to Vegeta and Nappa that Jeice was “obviously the cute one” and then realized he was within earshot of the entire squad. Hopefully Jeice hadn’t actually heard him because that would just–

“Well, I’ll let you get back to…whatever this is,” Jeice said, gesturing towards Raditz’s mess of textbooks and notes. “Don’t eat ‘em all at once or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Hold on,” Raditz blurted, and oh, _fuck_ , what was he doing he should be shooing Jeice out so he could study but _damn_ the boy was pretty and apparently pretty nice under all that cheerleader bravado if he was willing to give food to random strangers and Raditz had always been a sucker for kind, good-looking strangers, “I’d rather have your phone number than your cookies.” Oh that was not a smooth transition at all. Jeice was going to leave and probably take his cookies with him and tell the rest of the squad and Raditz was an idiot.

Except that Jeice had only looked taken aback for about half a second before grinning at him. “Well why didn’t you say so?” He plopped down in a chair next to Raditz. “I’m Jeice.”

Raditz smiled back, quietly mourning his lost study time. Hopefully, though, this would be worth it. “Raditz.”


	21. Humans vs. Zombies (Raditz/Tien/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "humans vs zombies (see you can still have your zombie AU, best of both worlds) - Raditz/Tien/Yamcha"

Yamcha stopped walking in the middle of the pathway and looked around. Tien kept walking for a few steps, then realized Yamcha wasn’t with him and stopped as well, turning back to his roommate. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Yamcha said, but his eyes were guarded and his stance ready to run. “Just felt like we were being watched.”

Tien rolled his eyes at him and walked back over. “You’re being paranoid about this. You’re not involved in the humans vs. zombies game, remember? No one’s going to attack you out of nowhere. Or me, for that matter.”

Yamcha scowled at him. “You don’t know that! Bulma’s not playing either, and some Twitchy McGee shot at her yesterday because they thought her headband was a bandanna! I do _not_ want to get shot, thanks!”

Tien looked around. “I don’t see anyone watching us, so can we–” He cut himself off because leaning against a wall a few feet to their left was a _massive_ guy with way too much hair. And he was definitely watching them. “Uh, scratch that,” he said, nodding in the man’s general direction.

Upon seeing that they’d noticed him, the man smirked and pushed away from the wall to casually saunter towards them. Tien gave him a quick glance up and down, and…well, he was definitely attractive. Something wild about his looks (it was the hair, probably, there was just so _much_ of it), but tall and muscular and wearing cutoff shorts that showed off his well-toned thighs and Tien snapped his gaze upwards because _that_ thought was going to go die in a corner of his brain somewhere. He had a green strip of cloth tied around one muscular bicep and Tien sighed. So he _was_ part of the humans vs. zombies game–humans wore a green cloth around their arm, zombies around their head or in their hair.

Yamcha had noticed too, and was panicking a little next to him. “Tien he’s coming this way.”

“I noticed.” He also noticed the way Yamcha’s eyes flicked up and down the stranger’s form and was glad to know he wasn’t the only one checking him out.

The man stopped in front of them and smiled. “Hey.”

“Not part of the game,” Yamcha blurted. “Not a zombie.”

He shrugged. “Oh, I wasn’t looking for zombies. You two are cute, so I was checking you out.”

Tien flushed and took an involuntary step backwards. “Oh.”

Yamcha folded his arms. “Right, and how many times have you used that line today?”

The stranger blinked, obviously taken aback. “What? Just once. On you two.”

Yamcha wouldn’t be swayed. “Bullshit. And you decided to flirt with both of us at once because…?”

He shrugged. “You’re both attractive. What’s the problem? Is it the humans vs. zombies thing? Because if that’s what you’re worried about, I can protect you.” He pulled a balled-up sock from his back pocket proudly. “Stole all of my roommate’s socks for this one. Last year I lost all my socks less than an hour in.”

Tien snorted and shook his head. “You, uh. You’re actually interested in both of us?”

The man grinned. “Why not? Unless you’re not into guys.”

“No, no,” Yamcha quickly assured him, “I’m uh. Yes.” His eyes flicked over the man’s form again, and he noticed, smirking in triumph. Then Yamcha turned to Tien. “What do you think?”

At this rate Tien was going to be permanently red, but he wasn’t going to deny he thought they were both handsome in their own ways–heck, he’d had a crush on Yamcha since they first became roommates. So he nodded and turned back to the stranger. “I’m Tien. This is Yamcha.”

The man grinned. “I’m Raditz. If you guys aren’t busy right now, I was thinking of maybe going for coffee or something?” There was an easiness to him, but a nervousness as well, and Tien got the feeling this wasn’t something he did often, but he was trying to pretend it was.

“Sounds fine to me,” Yamcha said, nodding. “But, uh, Tien, aren’t you forgetting something?” He winked. “He’s human, right?”

Tien grinned back at him. “Oh, I didn’t forget. I just didn’t want to scare him off before we had the opportunity to get to know each other a little.”

Raditz looked confused now, eyebrows drawn together and head cocked to one side. “I feel like I missed something.”

Tien reached out and gently shoved at Raditz’s arm. “Hey, human, I’m Patient Zero. Welcome to the zombie side.”

Raditz stared at him blankly while Yamcha howled with laughter next to him. “Oh my god,” he finally said, “I just got played, didn’t I?”

“He’s been tagging people non-stop all day,” Yamcha wheezed. “You’re like the fourth guy he’s gotten.”

Raditz scowled, but removed his cloth and tied it around his forehead instead. “Of all the people on campus, I had to ask out Patient Zero and Cackling Goon.” Yamcha’s laughter petered out, but he was still grinning. “Well, I guess I have to go catch some humans or something. Are, uh.” He cleared his throat. “Are you two still up for coffee?”

“Raditz, something you’ll learn about Tien,” Yamcha said, already leading the way to the cafeteria, “is that he’s always ready for coffee.”

“You’re worse than I am; you shut up!”

By the time they got to the cafeteria, between Raditz and Tien they’d turned five more humans. Tien grinned, brushing shoulders with Yamcha and blushing when Raditz’s fingers grazed his hand. It was going to be a great day.


	22. Sleep Flying (Raditz/Yamcha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“you fell asleep on my shoulder on the flight but it’s okay because you smelled nice and I was cold anyway” au - Radcha, please?"
> 
> (I had two ideas for it so I wrote two things)

Raditz shifted in his seat and did his best to stretch his legs without moving the rest of his body. Airplane seats were horrible and tiny and cramped and Raditz hated them. (The fact that he was 7 feet tall barefoot had nothing to do with it. Nor did the fact that he had thighs the size of Vegeta’s head.) He didn’t take airplane flights unless he could avoid it, but now that his little brother had up and moved to a different _continent_ altogether, it was that or never see him again.

That wasn’t an option. They’d spent too many years apart already.

Normally, when his legs started getting cramped like this, he’d just get up and walk up and down the aisles for a bit to get the blood moving. Maybe go to the washroom, or flirt with a flight attendant, or ask for the umpteenth time when the plane was going to land. Unfortunately, standing wasn’t an option right now.

His seat mate–Yamcha, he’d said his name was–had fallen asleep on Raditz.

Most of the time Raditz would immediately shove a stranger that fell asleep on him (on a train, a bus, an airplane, it happened more often than Raditz liked) off of him and preferably into the wall. But Raditz was cold and Yamcha was warm and comforting at his side. So. Whatever. He could deal.

And of course it had nothing to do with the fact that Yamcha was pretty…well, _pretty_. Soft black hair framed his face. He was clearly only a few years younger than Raditz, but time had been kind to him (or at least kinder than it had been to Raditz). The scars on his face added an air of mystery and danger to an otherwise normal-looking man, and during their brief conversations earlier in the flight Raditz had wanted to ask about them, but didn’t. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and peaceful, and Raditz couldn’t bring himself to wake him.

So he gingerly rested his head on top of Yamcha’s and thought, vaguely, while he was drifting off himself, that he smelled like campfire smoke.

~~~

“You’re an idiot.”

“Mm-hm.”

Yamcha did his best to glare reproachfully at the Saiyan clinging to his back as he flew them along. “Don’t you ‘mm-hm’ me, mister. You know better than to pick fights with Chi-Chi. Now, we’re going to get you to my place and bandage your ankle, and then you’re going to go _apologize_ to your sister-in-law.”

“No.” Raditz’s arms wrapped further around Yamcha’s shoulders. “She started it.”

“I was there, bucko. Not going to fly.”

“I know.” He didn’t need to look to know he was grinning impishly. “That’s why you’re carrying me.”

“I will drop you,” Yamcha threatened. “Now shut up, I’m trying to fly. You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.”

“Mm,” Raditz mumbled sleepily. Yamcha jolted as Raditz’s tail wrapped around his waist. “You’re doing it ‘cause you love me and you know it.”

“I-I–! I don’t–Raditz!”

But Raditz’s only response was quiet, gentle breathing. Yamcha sighed, willing the blood to drain from his face. He was just saying that. He didn’t know how accurate he was. (And there was no way in hell Yamcha was ever telling him, or anyone else for that matter.)

At least he’d fallen asleep and couldn’t pursue the subject. Yamcha tried to think of other things as they flew, but Raditz’s warmth on his back kept dragging his thoughts back to the man in question. There was a rumbling feeling coming from Raditz’s chest, and Yamcha bit back a grin as he realised Raditz was purring. That was just _precious_.

“Hey, Raditz?” There was no answer. Yamcha licked his lips and stared straight ahead as Kung Pao Rock came into view. If he was going to admit this to anyone, a sleeping Raditz was probably best. “I think I love you.”

Raditz’s purring got louder and he shifted the grip his tail had around Yamcha’s waist. “Love you too,” he murmured into Yamcha’s shoulder.

Yamcha shrieked and nearly fell out of the sky. “Y-you–YOU WERE AWAKE?!”

“Watch where you’re flying! Of course I’m awake!” Yamcha stammered and flushed scarlet when Raditz’s lips brushed the scar on his cheek. “Like I said, bandit,” Yamcha could feel his grin against his face, “love you too.”


	23. Job Opportunity (Tien/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“I’m low on cash but I really need some food from this vending machine, could i trouble you for a dollar?” au - Gun sight"

He dug through his pockets one last time, even though he knew it was in vain. Shit. He scratched the base of his neck and counted the change in his hand again–$1.54, just $0.96 short of getting literally anything from the vending machine.

Dammit. Tenshinhan was hungry and in a hurry and didn’t have time to find Chiaotzu or Yamcha and wheedle them for more cash. He was supposed to be in a job interview in ten minutes and he didn’t want to go in on an empty stomach. He always said weird stuff when he was hungry and he wasn’t looking for a repeat experience of the Turtle School incident.

Resigning himself to listening to his stomach growl all through the interview–he should’ve listened to Chiaotzu and had a more substantial breakfast–Tenshinhan started to turn away from the machine. A young woman was standing behind him, waiting for her turn at the vending machine. She carried herself with an air of importance, but not arrogance, a red ribbon tying her black hair out of her soft features. Tenshinhan swallowed. He hadn’t even noticed her behind him.

The woman looked him up and down briefly, taking in his attire (Tenshinhan unconsciously adjusted his tie–he hated suits and much preferred looser clothing) before her eyes settled on the hand still holding $1.54 in change. “Not getting anything after all?” she asked.

Tenshinhan shrugged. “Not hungry,” he said.

She smiled at him and he blushed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m fine.” He flushed darker when his stomach belied his statement by growling loudly, then darker still when the woman laughed. “Alright, I’m kind of hungry, but I have an interview in–” he glanced at a clock on the wall– “seven minutes, so I should probably get–”

“Oh, you do?” The woman moved to the vending machine and fed it coins, still talking to Tenshinhan. “What department?”

“Security.”

She glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. “A little overdressed for the job, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, shifting back and forth. Why was he still talking to her? _Because she’s pretty,_ a little voice in the back of his head said, and he immediately shushed it. “Dress to impress, right? It’s, uh. It’s not even my suit. It’s my friend Yamcha’s.” He hoped no one noticed that it was a little small on him.

The woman laughed and turned away from the vending machine. She held an energy bar out to him. “Here. Can’t have you interviewing on an empty stomach.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t–” Tenshinhan was interrupted again by his stomach which insisted rather loudly that yes, he really _could_. “Alright, thank you,” he said when she giggled (and why was even _that_ sweet and adorable, unfair), “but at least let me give you what change I have.”

She looked up at him, and he got the distinct feeling he was being judged for something. Finally she nodded. “That’s fair.” They traded–his change for her bar–and she smiled at him again. “Let me walk you to your interview.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” he protested, already tearing into the bar. “I’ve been here before; I know where it is.”

“I insist.” She started to walk off, smiling over her shoulder at him, and he hurried after her. “My name’s Lunch, by the way.”

“Tenshinhan.” He held his hand out to shake, and she took it. “If I may ask, what is it you do here?”

Lunch winked at him. “Head of Security.”

He choked on the bar and coughed. “Wh-what?”

“I’ll see you in your interview.” Lunch smiled at him again. “Don’t worry, you’ve already shown a _lot_ of great qualities. I think you’ll be an asset to the company–I’m rooting for you!” And she was gone, leaving Tenshinhan alone in front of a plain door labelled “Security” and wondering if it was wrong to ask your potential employer out for coffee.


	24. Vending Machine (Future Trunks/Bandit Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "“I’m low on cash but I really need some food from this vending machine, could i trouble you for a dollar?” au - Timeless Teens (aka, teenage Yamcha with future Trunks), just to mix it up a bit! ;)"

Vending machines were horrible, overpriced, unsightly dispensers of disgusting junk food. It was beneath Yamcha to even be standing before one.

And yet he was digging through his pockets, doing his best to scrounge up enough change for even a bag of chips, because it was a long ride home from school and he needed _something_ to take the edge off his hunger. Even horrible chips that tasted like salted cardboard and had about the same nutritional value. He could practically hear Puar’s voice in his head, lecturing him about how he shouldn’t waste money on that kind of junk, wasn’t his lunch enough for him, couldn’t he wait until he got home to eat something, and _no_ , he really couldn’t. His stomach had been growling at him all through his last class and now it was practically turning itself inside out.

Except apparently he was going to _have_ to wait until he got home, because he only had about a dollar and everything in the vending machine was at least two. “Overpriced hunk of junk,” he muttered bitterly, stuffing his change back in his pocket and hoisting his bag higher up on his shoulder.

“Um.”

Yamcha jumped. The voice had come from behind him, hesitant and not quite sure whether it was asking a question or not. He turned and behind him was Trunks, Orange Star High’s very own quiet nerd boy. All he needed to do was dye his purple bowl cut black and grow it out so it covered one eye and he’d look the part, too. All Yamcha knew about him was what everyone else knew–he was good in shop class and science, kept to himself, no one knew whether he lived with anyone else or not, walked to school, didn’t have many (if any) friends. He looked embarrassed, not quite meeting Yamcha’s eyes and holding his arms at his sides.

Shifting his bag again, Yamcha raised an eyebrow and waited for Trunks to say something else. He’d never been this close to Trunks before, and he was kind of cute now that he looked. Not that he was looking or anything.

“What?” Yamcha finally asked, because Trunks was still not saying anything and it was getting ridiculous.

“Are you using the vending machine?”

Yamcha’s face fell flat. Oh. Was that all? “No, not right now, be my guest.” His hand gripped the change in his pocket. “Not enough change for anything, anyway.”

Trunks had started to move forward when Yamcha said he wasn’t using the machine, but stopped when he said he had no change. “Did you want something? I think I have some extra change…”

Normally, Yamcha would get annoyed over the apparent act of charity. So maybe he wore old-fashioned (and just plain old) clothes, and he didn’t eat a lot at lunch. He and Puar weren’t _poor_ , they didn’t need their richer friends to buy things for them. Yamcha happened to like his clothes, and he was trying to eat less to save money. He had a motorcycle to pay off after all (a necessity as soon as he’d gotten his licence–cut the commute to school in half at least).

But Trunks…for some reason it didn’t feel like charity coming from Trunks. Yamcha’s dark brown eyes met Trunks’s bright blue ones. They looked sincere and concerned, but not overly so.

So he shrugged and said “if you had a buck to spare, I wouldn’t say no.”

Trunks pulled a mittful of change from his pocket and hurriedly tried to sort it. After an awkward minute of standing and watching Trunks sort change (while also doing his best not to immediately try hiding behind either Trunks or the machine whenever a girl walked past), Yamcha accepted the fistful of dimes Trunks thrust at him. “Sorry about the small change,” Trunks said, turning to the machine and sticking a mess of dimes into it one at a time. “I keep finding them when I clean my apartment.”

Yamcha shrugged. “I only have one quarter. The rest are dimes and nickels.”

Trunks pulled an energy bar from the slot at the bottom of the machine and moved aside so Yamcha could get to it. “I know,” he said when Yamcha gave the bar a disgusted look. “It’s full of more sugar than protein, and it’s not good for me. But it’s better than straight chocolate, and I like them.”

“Suit yourself.” Yamcha shrugged and bent to retrieve his chips. When he stood again, Trunks was still not looking properly at him, as though if he looked him in the eyes he’d disappear. “Thanks, man.”

“N-no problem.” Trunks’s eyes flicked to Yamcha’s, then back down to his boots. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” Before Yamcha could say anything else, Trunks was halfway down the hall.

~~~

Dodging around the other students, Yamcha did his best to both avoid girls and look for Trunks. Around a dollar’s worth of change jingled in his pocket. It was always hard to find someone first thing in the morning, especially someone who liked hiding from people as much as Trunks did, but if there was one thing Yamcha prided himself on it was his determination.

He finally found Trunks at the back of the library (and, in hindsight, it probably should’ve been the first place he checked). “Hey,” he said, plopping down on the floor next to him. Trunks jumped and slammed the book he was reading shut, eyes going wide and face going scarlet. Yamcha grinned and flipped his hair over his shoulder. “Hey, I know I’m gorgeous and all, but don’t go getting embarrassed by my beauty over here. I’m just here to return a favour.”

Trunks’s eyebrows drew together and he blinked up at Yamcha. “What?”

“A favour. You know. A thing someone does for someone else without expecting something in return.”

“I know what a favour is!” Trunks shifted so he was crosslegged with his book in his lap. “I don’t know what favour you mean!”

“Shut up, man, you’re gonna get us kicked out.” Yamcha pulled the change from his pocket and jingled it in Trunks’s face. “You bought me chips yesterday. I’m paying you back.”

“Oh, that.” Trunks shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a dollar.”

“Listen, pretty boy,” Trunks blushed harder, “I don’t do charity, so you either get your money back or the chips. And I ate the chips in about five seconds flat after I bought them, so they’re not going to be fun.”

Trunks wrinkled his nose and Yamcha absently thought his “pretty boy” statement was _super_ accurate. “Don’t be gross.”

“Then just take the change.” Dimes clinked in Yamcha’s hand as he shook them. “Come on.”

Reluctantly, Trunks held his hand out and Yamcha dumped the change into it. “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Yamcha settled back against the wall. “Name’s Yamcha, by the way.”

“Trunks.”

An easy smile worked its way across Yamcha’s face. Trunks was actually pretty sweet, and easily embarrassed, and really cute.

This could be the start of something great.


	25. Pillow Fort (Goku/Chi-Chi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by z-paladin: "GoChi 90 (Our kid is totally the one who wanted to build a pillow fort, not me.) please?"

There was giggling from the living room, followed by a lot of shushing and yet more giggling.

Chi-Chi sighed, wiped her hands on her apron, and went to see what her boys had gotten into _this_ time.

Ever since Goku came back from Otherworld after being dead for 7 years, he’d been making a real effort to spend time with the family he hadn’t seen. Chi-Chi would definitely not complain, especially since he even managed to not always make it about training (particularly with Gohan). But she’d admit, it was…odd, seeing him struggling to help Gohan with relationship problems, play-wrestling with Goten, following her around the kitchen with his arms around her waist. He’d never been so clingy before, or even so invested in anything outside training and fighting. She supposed losing one’s family for so long could do that to a person, and secretly she was glad that that was the attitude Goku came home with.

She rounded the corner to the living room and found her way blocked by couch cushions, blankets, and every single pillow in the house. The giggling was coming from inside the mess, and it sounded distinctly like her husband.

Chi-Chi picked her way through the room as quietly as possible to stand in front of the one opening in the hastily thrown together fort. Sure enough, Goku and Goten were giggling hysterically, periodically shushing each other. She cleared her throat and they looked up at her, seemingly noticing her for the first time, and collapsed further into louder giggles.

“It was Goten’s idea,” Goku wheezed between bouts of laughter, “I swear.”

“I’m sure it was.” Chi-Chi shook her head, but a smile worked its way across her lips. “Alright, boys, you can eat your lunch in here if you want–” She was interrupted by cheering. “But,” she said, “after that you have to clean up.”

Both boys pouted up at her and she propped her hands on her hips. “Well it can’t _stay_ like this.”

Goku reached out and yanked her into the fort with them. She shrieked and Goten started laughing again. “Come on, Chi! We can’t tear it down so soon! We’re not even done building it yet!”

Chi-Chi struggled half-heartedly, then gave up. “Alright, fine, you win. But it’s getting tidied up before bedtime!” She patted Goku’s face and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes dear,” Goku said cheekily, kissing her right back.

“Eeewww.” Goten wrinkled his nose. “If you guys are gonna get all gross, I’m leaving.”


	26. Naptime (Bulma/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Hi hi, Ed! Since you're doing those fluffy prompts...Fluffy Science 087 (shh...they're asleep) please? Hope you're having a good day!"

The nursery was dark and quiet when Bulma checked in on it. Keeping the light off so as not to disturb her baby’s napping, she slipped into the room and started towards the crib on the other side of it. She’d heard a noise on the baby monitor and, while she was pretty sure it was just Mari turning in her sleep, she figured it couldn’t hurt to double-check.

She nearly shrieked when she saw a shape sitting in the rocking chair next to the window, but slapped a hand over her mouth before she could let out a sound. On closer inspection, even in the dark of the room she could recognize her husband, Jeice, fluffy white hair framing his red face. His eyes were closed and cradled in his arms was their daughter, curled into a ball and snuggled against his chest.

Bulma let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. So _that’s_ what that noise was–her husband had decided to join their daughter for her afternoon nap. Well, Mari had always been a calming presence for Jeice (except when she was first born and he was terrified of breaking her if he so much as looked at her wrong). It shouldn’t have surprised Bulma that he was here. It wasn’t even like it was the first time she’d found them like this.

Deciding to leave them to it, Bulma backed out of the room and closed the door as silently as possible.

“Oh! Bulma, dear!”

She winced at her mother’s delighted loudness. After the quiet of the nursery, everything seemed even louder than normal. “Checking up on Mari? Dear, that’s what baby monitors are for!”

She probably would have continued chattering on if Bulma hadn’t held a finger to her lips and pointed at the door. “Mom, shh. They’re asleep.”


	27. Grow Up So Fast (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "Writing prompt, #101 (they grow up so fast), Rice?"

“You’re cryin’.”

Raditz swiped angrily at the tears gathering in his eyes. “I am not,” he muttered petulantly.

Jeice patted his arm in comfort. “I know, I know. It’s hard seein’ the li’l tyke all grown up, isn’t it?”

Raditz watched as Gohan clambered down off the stage and went back to his seat next to Videl Satan, grinning like a maniac. The next graduate walked out onto the stage, took their diploma, posed for their parents to take a picture, but Raditz’s attention was squarely on his nephew. So many years had gone by since they’d first met (since Raditz kidnapped Gohan, rather, but he tried not to think about that). So much had happened. So much had _changed_ , especially Raditz, and Gohan had been such a big part of the reason for that change…

Jeice laced their fingers together and Raditz cracked a small smile.

“They just grow up so fast.”


	28. Wedding Cake (Bulma/Vegeta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "052:"If you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life." - Bulma and Vegeta? Maybe? Worst part is I can't tell who'd be saying it."

“I’m serious; don’t you dare.”

Vegeta had cake in both hands and a maniacal grin on his face. Bulma was going to absolutely _destroy_ whoever had told him shoving cake in your new spouse’s face was a wedding thing. She’d done so _well_ , keeping him from exerting too much of his crazy over the wedding preparations, not telling him about some of the…wilder wedding traditions, ensuring the ceremony and reception went smoothly. (Or at least as smoothly as possible, given the guest list.)

And yet here he was, her husband of all of three hours, fists full of wedding cake and all set to get into the spirit of things.

She was going to find out who told him about this and there would be no dragon in the _universe_ that could bring them back after what she did to them.

“Vegeta, if you shove cake in my face this will be the worst wedding night of your life.” She backed up, bumping into the table the cake was on. “If you–”

She never finished her sentence, because he lunged and–

Well, the cake wasn’t in her _face_.

Bulma had never wanted to know what icing in her cleavage felt like. Her face twisted in an indescribable expression of horror and disgust. “VEGETA!” she shrieked. Even he looked momentarily shocked by what had just happened before covering it up with a flustered smirk.

She could hear people laughing, and she glared out into the crowd. This was _not_ how she’d wanted her wedding night to go–cake in her boobs, guests thinking it was a huge riot.

But really, what was she expecting? She knew how wacko her inner circle–and the man she chose to marry–could be. And as the old saying went…

Maintaining direct eye contact with Vegeta, Bulma swiped up a huge handful of wedding cake, grinning at the genuine fear in his eyes.

If you can’t beat them, join them.


	29. Glitter Glue Renovations (Gohan/Videl/Dende)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by raxceni: 096 (Come on now, I think you’re being too harsh. They’re just a kid. Remember all of the stupid things we used to do when we were their age?) for the 101 fluffy prompts for your fave DBZ ship at the moment.
> 
> (And I chose Gohan/Videl/Dende for it!)

“But Mom–”

“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me, young lady.” Videl glared at the two girls in front of her. Bra at least had the sense to look sheepish–Pan was opting for indignant, possibly because it was her mother doing the scolding. Clearly, she didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. “Bra, I’ve called your parents and your father’s on his way to get you.” When Bra started to protest, Videl held up a hand. “I know you can go back by yourself, but after today’s little stunt, I’m not sure I can trust you to actually do it. In the meantime, the two of you get to clean up the mess you made.” She pointed. “Get going.”

Pan scowled, folding her arms. “We were just _playing_.”

“The sooner you start, the sooner you can be done.”

Her oldest made a big show of getting up and stomping into the enclosure in the middle of the platform her family called home, grouching the entire way. Videl sighed. Well, there was no doubt Pan was a Satan, at any rate. Bra trailed after her, a scowl to rival Vegeta’s plastered on her face.

Dende’s voice caught Videl’s attention. “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

Videl looked down at him, standing next to the steps with his staff gripped in both hands. His gaze was fixed firmly on his wife. “I mean,” he added, “she _is_ just a child. This sort of behaviour is to be expected.”

“I don’t know how you raise kids on Namek,” Videl said, “but generally speaking repainting the living room with glitter glue is just _slightly_ frowned upon around here.”

Dende smiled wryly. “Didn’t you ever do anything like that as a child?”

Videl paused for a fraction of a second as she remembered the time she drew a beautiful(ish) crayon mural of her and her father winning the Tenkaichi Budokai together all over the freshly painted kitchen and spent the next two hours cleaning it off. “No.”

Arms snaked around her from behind and she automatically tensed before realizing it was her other husband. “Aw, come on, Videl,” Gohan said, “I’ll bet you did. I know _I_ did.”

She twisted to look up at him. “You were a giant dork who thought homework was fun. I can’t imagine you staying out after curfew, let alone–”

“One time I accidentally superglued my math textbook shut.” Gohan grinned at the memory. “Then when I tried to get it open I ripped it in half. When Mom found out she didn’t believe me that it was an accident and I had to do _extra_ math to make up for it.”

“Before I came to live here,” Dende added, “there was a time when Cargo and I…” He blushed, embarrassed. “Were caught dropping endorcal shells on Grand Elder Moori’s head. He, ah, wasn’t impressed.”

Videl had no idea what an endorcal was and didn’t want to ask. “Well, there’s still a living room covered in glitter in there, and _someone’s_ got to clean it up. And it sure as shit won’t be me. So it only seems fair that those who made the mess get to deal with it.”

Gohan kissed the top of her head and Dende reached for her hand. “Fair enough,” Gohan chuckled. “Want me to go make sure they’re doing their job in there?”

Videl wrapped her arms around Dende’s waist and pulled him closer so she was sandwiched between her husbands. “I think they can supervise themselves for a few minutes.” She winked. “As long as they fear the wrath of God a little, anyway.”

Dende laughed and wrapped his arms as far around the both of them as he could. “You’re terrible.”

“Maybe. But at least I didn’t cover our house in glitter glue.”


	30. Panic (Videl/Erasa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "Hurt/Comfort prompt: Videl and Erasa are hanging around town and enter a shop. Erasa wants to buy some chocolate but memories of being transformed on Kami's Lookout causes Videl to have a panic attack. Erasa comforts her best friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclaimer: I have never had or witnessed an actual panic attack, so I would like to apologise in advance if anything is inaccurate or disrespectful in any way, shape, or form.

“I’m sorry.”

Videl shook her head, focusing on her breathing. It was steadier now, calmer. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“If I’d known–”

“Well, I didn’t know either.” Videl ran a hand through her hair. “Can we not talk for a minute, please?” Holding a conversation was still difficult after–whatever the hell had just happened. A panic attack? She’d never had one of those before.

Then again, she’d never lost everyone and everything she loved before. She’d never _died_ before.

Sheepish, Erasa nodded. “Sure. Okay. Sorry.”

The two girls sat side by side on their park bench, Videl’s knees drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped around them, Erasa’s arm around Videl’s shoulders in comfort. For once, Erasa kept her mouth shut, and Videl was grateful. Most of the time, Erasa’s constant chatter was a godsend, something to fill in the cracks and keep Videl focused on the real world. Right now, though, the real world was something Videl wanted very little to do with.

It was just a candy store.

Erasa _loved_ candy stores. She hardly ever actually bought anything, and when she did it was usually sugar-free candy, but whenever the two of them were out shopping Erasa would more often than not end up dragging Videl into one. She loved the atmosphere, the colours, everything. The candy itself was just a bonus as far as Erasa was concerned.

But Videl still remembered being turned into chocolate and it wasn’t a good memory. So the rows of chocolates shaped like little people were the exact opposite of what she needed.

She’d ended up running out of the store, feeling like she couldn’t breathe, she was going to explode, knowing she was overreacting and feeling stupid because of it. Erasa came after her, led her to the bench, and they’d been there for a good half hour since.

“You gonna be okay?” Erasa asked tentatively. Videl nodded. She would be eventually, if not right now. “Okay then. I’m really sorry, Videl. It never bothered you before.”

Videl shook her head. “I know. I can’t really explain.” How could she? How could she ever tell anyone what had happened? Nobody on Earth even remembered Buu existed outside of a handful of people. “I’ll be fine. I’m just…stressed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Videl put her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Not really. But thanks for asking.”

“Anytime, doll.” Erasa ran her fingers through Videl’s hair and Videl smiled.

She was so lucky to have Erasa in her life.


	31. I Almost Lost You (Gohan/Videl/Dende)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by f0xf0ce: "11 (“I almost lost you” kiss) from the kiss prompt list for super nerd patrol? :3"

The door slammed open and straight off its hinges. Videl was immediately on her feet, eyes blazing and ready to unleash a kick to her attacker’s face, but her yell to Dende to grab Pan and run died in her throat when she saw that it was Gohan rushing through the ruined doorway. Before she could even ask what was wrong, he was on her, arms around her as tight as he could without hurting her, lips pressed frantically to hers.

Videl barely had time to register what was going on before Gohan had pulled away and was peppering her face and hair with kisses, feather-light and soft, and she reached up to pull him away and cup his face in her hands. Tears slipped from his eyes and only now did she notice that his glasses were missing.

“What happened?” she asked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dende enter the room, Pan cradled in his arms.

Gohan saw him too, and opened his arms to bring Dende into the embrace. Dende readily accepted, shooting Videl a confused look. Gohan pulled them all close, slowly letting his breathing grow less shaky.

“I almost lost you,” he said. “Frieza…the planet blew up and…I almost lost you.” He placed a gentle kiss between Dende’s antennae. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to–”

“Hey.” Videl grabbed his face again. “Don’t do that to yourself. I don’t know what happened, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Take however long you need to feel better,” Dende added, wrapping the arm that wasn’t cradling a squirming baby around Gohan’s waist. “I promise we will all be here for however long you need.”

Gohan nodded and rested his cheek on top of Dende’s head, playing with Videl and Pan’s hair. “Thank you.”


	32. Brats (Bulma/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Ooooo, you're taking writing prompts? Dammit, I can't ask you to write my rare pair over and over again. XD Soooo, could you please write my OTHER rare pair Fluffy Science instead, please? Mari in it would be a bonus, if that's okay. :3c Hope you're doing okay anyway. o.ob"

“Get back here, ya li’l ankle-biter!”

Bulma nearly toppled over as something slammed into her legs. She struggled to keep her balance, looking down to see her six-year-old clambering up her body and into her arms. “Hey, Mari,” she said, hoisting her up. “What’d you do to get Daddy all riled up?”

Instead of answering, Mari giggled and buried her face in Bulma’s shoulder.

“Oh, no ya don’t!” Jeice’s voice rang out as he charged down the hallway towards them. “You don’t get to get Mum on your side for this one!”

Bulma tried not to laugh, but the sight of her husband covered in some kind of goopy concoction made it difficult. “Have we been doing kitchen science again?” she asked, looking down at her daughter.

Jeice fumed and wiped what looked to be baking soda, vinegar, and food colouring from his face. “I knew telling her I used to be called Red Magma was a bad idea.” He pointed at her, his angry expression somewhat undercut by the fact that he was still dripping with goo. “You’re in big trouble, missy.”

“Aww, honey.” Bulma pressed a kiss to the one part of his face that wasn’t messy–his lips. “Go clean yourself up. Mari will handle the kitchen. That should be enough punishment, right?”

She hadn’t thought it possible, but Jeice’s already red skin flushed even darker. “I-I–oh, alright,” he grumbled. He wagged a finger at Mari. “You’re lucky Mum was here to save you. Next time you want me to do kitchen science, I’m turning you over to her first.”

Mari just laughed and poked him in the nose.


	33. Open Up (Vegeta, no ship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by fandom-infatuation: "About the writing prompt thing if you wouldnt mind: Vegeta opening up to the rest of the gang(AKA Not his wife, children or Goku)"

Vegeta wasn’t totally asleep. He heard voices, vaguely, from across the living room, but the couch was comfortable and he didn’t feel like getting up. It wasn’t like he cared about what the voices were saying, anyway.

Even if it was about him.

“I’ve never seen him like that.” That was Yamcha. Pretty Yamcha, with his pretty hair and pretty smile and pretty body. Vegeta could see why Bulma had once dated him. “He was so open. I almost felt bad for him.”

“I didn’t.” Tenshinhan. Vegeta had never liked Tenshinhan, and the feeling was mutual. “If he really feels so bad for not being in his family’s life more, why doesn’t he do anything about it?”

“We should help him.” Small, compassionate Krillin. Vegeta had always had a liking for him–he was tough and tenacious, and Vegeta could respect that. “Show him how to connect with Trunks better. Teach him how to court Bulma in a real, proper Earth way. You know? It’d be fun.”

“What universe do you live in where giving love advice is _fun_?” If Vegeta had been more awake, he might’ve laughed at how incredulous Tenshinhan sounded. His allergy to romance was nearly legendary.

“Okay, fine, Yamcha and I will do it. Come on, Yamcha, it’ll be fun.”

Yamcha sighed. “Bulma _does_ deserve better behaviour from her husband. I’m in.”

There was a long pause, then Tenshinhan sighed. “Stop giving me that face, Yamcha, I’ll do it already. But I’m never drinking with Vegeta again. You can’t make me.”

Vegeta wanted to sit up and tell them to stay the hell out of his family life, but sleep overtook him before he could.


	34. Food (Raditz/Yamcha, Piccolo/Tien/Nail)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by profoundlytenaciousgalaxy: "DID SOMEONE SAY WRITING PROMPT? Tien and Yamcha introducing their alien boyfriends to food. (That would be Piccolo, maybe Nail, and Raditz)"
> 
> ~~I'm too lazy to put these into separate chapters~~

“It’s called beef stew.”

Raditz sniffed at it, his nose crinkling. “I know what stew is, but what’s beef?”

“It’s a kind of meat,” Yamcha explained, sitting in the chair across from him. “Remember how I showed you cows earlier? Beef is cow meat.”

“That’s stupid. Why wouldn’t you just say cow stew? Tells you exactly what’s in it rather than making you guess.”

“Most people know what beef means,” Yamcha chided, picking up his spoon. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Raditz fished a chunk of what he assumed was meat from the bowl with his spoon and squinted at it. It looked gamey. But hell, he’d eaten worse, and Yamcha had made it for him. He glanced at Yamcha, who was blowing on his spoonful before sticking it in his mouth. Raditz copied him.

Oh. _Wow_.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Raditz said with his mouth full. He swallowed his mouthful just so he could shovel another one in.

“I guess you like it, huh,” Yamcha said, a smile tipping half his mouth up.

“This is easily the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” Raditz jammed another spoonful into his mouth and stared at Yamcha, eyes wide. “You made this? From a cow?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full; on Earth it’s considered rude.” Yamcha blew on his spoon again. “I didn’t make it from a cow, I went out and bought the ingredients.” He flashed Raditz a grin, no less beautiful despite the fact that there was some kind of vegetable between his teeth. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m never eating anything else for the rest of my life.”

~~~

“Just try it.”

Nail wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not.”

Tien scowled. “I told you I wouldn’t make you eat meat because you said it would make you uncomfortable. Well, I promise this isn’t meat. It’s an apple. It’s a fruit. It grows on a tree. Look, Piccolo will eat one.”

“I will _not_.” Piccolo grimaced, holding the offending red fruit at arm’s length. “I’ve heard about these. They’re sour.”

“These are pink ladies. They’re not sour.” Tien took a bite from his. “Just eat the damn apple already.”

Nail’s mouth twisted, but he brought the apple to his lips and gingerly took a bite. He chewed with his mouth open, awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his face while he ate. “It’s juicy,” he said, surprise colouring his voice.

“It’s a fruit. They usually are.” Tien took another bite and looked at Piccolo expectantly. Piccolo shifted, avoiding his eyes. “Come on, Piccolo. Nail did it.”

“It’s not bad,” Nail added. “The texture is strange, and it’s sweeter than I really like.” Tien looked back to him and saw he was trying to suck the juice from it without actually putting it in his mouth. “But it’s rather nice.” He moved the apple and smiled, and Tien shook his head at the juice dripping down Nail’s face.

“That’s not really how you’re supposed to eat apples,” he said, “but I’m glad you liked it.”

Nail’s smile became crooked and he leaned forward. “Looks like I made a mess. Want to help clean it up?”

“Um.” Tien’s neck flushed. “I-I–here.” He fumbled with his sleeve and was about to start wiping Nail’s face when Nail’s lips landed on his. They were wet and tasted like apples.

“Hey.” Tien moved away, face redder than his apple and heart slamming against his ribs, turning from Nail’s satisfied smirk to see Piccolo had taken a huge bite of apple and gotten juice all over his face as well. “If you’re helping him,” he said, lifting Tien’s chin with his fingers, “you’re helping me too.”

Making out with his Namekian partners wasn’t how Tien had originally planned on spending his afternoon. But, he decided as Piccolo’s mouth met his, he wasn’t going to complain.


	35. You're Drunk (Krillin/Android 18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "If you're still doing the kiss meme... #3 (drunk/sloppy kiss) for K18 pretty please? :3"

“Hey, hey 18. You know…you know what’d be…really funny?”

18 gently deflected Krillin as he reached for an eighth beer bottle. Clearly, being so small meant he couldn’t hold his liquor very well. “What?”

He leaned into her side, and it was a testament to her developing comfort levels that she didn’t immediately shove him off. “We should make out.”

To her great embarrassment, she blushed and looked away. “No, Krillin. You’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Nooooo,” he whined, falling over onto the couch as she stood up. He pushed himself upright and pouted at her. “You kissed me once already.”

“Sure did.” She scooped him up and he clung to her neck, puckering his lips at her. “I said no, Krillin. It’s not funny.”

“Sure it is!” Krillin’s smile was lopsided and a little misty. “It’s funny because…because a cool and strong and beautiful girl like you could do so much better than me! So if we made out it’d be…” He wavered. “…Really funny.”

Oh. It was one of _these_ nights. “Krillin, I’m not that cool.” Strong, sure, and beautiful, absolutely, but cool…that was a new one. “And you’re too hard on yourself, especially when you’re drunk. You’re funny and passionate and kind and cute and…” She trailed off, suddenly realising where she was taking that sentence. “P-perfect,” she said, “you’re perfect.” She ripped her gaze away from his wide eyes and continued carrying him to his bedroom. Her face prickled with heat. Oh, she had it bad. “I don’t deserve a guy like you, alright? I’m a bad guy. I tried to kill your best friend, remember?”

“But…you’re so good.” There was so much _warmth_ in Krillin’s voice and she swallowed. “18, I love you.”

“Y-you’re drunk,” she told him, nudging his bedroom door open with her hip. She carried him over to his bed and tried to lay him down, but he wouldn’t let go of her neck.

“Come on, 18,” he murmured, staring up at her with that weird, not quite sad but not very happy either smile. “What could it hurt?”

Oh, hell. She was in too deep anyway. 18 leaned forward and captured his lips.

Krillin tasted like beer and pretzels and 18 didn’t even _like_ beer but somehow he made it work. It was sloppy and messy and there was no technique from either of them and his mouth was so _hot_ and 18 only pulled back because Krillin started gasping for air.

He’d already been flushed from the alcohol, but now he was even more so, breathing hard and grinning dazedly up at her. She panted and struggled to get her breath back as he reached up to tuck some of her stray hair behind her ear. “ _You’re_ the perfect one,” he mumbled.

18 shook her head. “Go to sleep.” She gave a quick kiss to his new hairline and rose, leaving his room without so much as a backward glance. Closing the door behind her, she wondered if she should regret her actions–had she taken advantage of him while he was drunk?

But no, he’d wanted it for a while too–this wasn’t the first time he’d hinted that he wanted to go for a relationship with her, although never as blatantly as this. She remembered what he’d called her–cool, strong, beautiful, _perfect_ –and smiled.

They’d talk in the morning. And then maybe they’d make out some more.


	36. Happy New Year (Tien/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "for the kiss thing, tenshinhan x launch and number 17 (New Year's kiss)??"

“Hey, everyone shut up! The countdown’s about to start!”

A ragged cheer went up from the assembled partygoers at Bulma’s announcement. Everyone crowded into the Briefs family living room, laughing and jostling and arguing good-naturedly.

Launch stood just off to the side of the crowd, arms folded, eyes fixed on the television screen with its one minute countdown. She tried not to look sour, but it was hard. Her eyes flitted around the room, taking in the various couples–Goku and Chi-Chi, Bulma and Vegeta, Krillin and that blonde android chick, Yamcha and his boyfriend who she’d talked to for all of thirty seconds, even Gohan had brought Videl. She grimaced and looked back at the screen. How completely unfair was it that Gohan–a damn brat, son of another damn brat–had a girlfriend while she was still living the single life? Totally unfair, in her opinion. But it was hard to find someone who was okay with the occasional bank robbery.

“Thirty seconds!” the television declared.

Someone shifted next to her and she glanced over to see Tenshinhan. Launch started. She hadn’t seen him join her.

Now that she thought about it, though, she’d never heard about him with anyone either. She’d told him she was interested _several_ times over the years–who wouldn’t be interested in him? Tall, strong, broad-shouldered, kind and sweet once you got past his combination of social awkwardness and violent tendencies, but didn’t she have those in spades too? He’d never reciprocated, though, and no matter how many times she tried to put aside her feelings and tell herself it’d never work out, she could never seem to completely get over him.

“Ten!”

Maybe that was why she was still single.

“Nine!”

Oh, well.

“Eight!”

Not a whole lot she could do about it.

“Seven!”

It wasn’t like she could change his feelings–or her own.

“Six!”

They were still good friends, though, and that was enough for her.

“Five!”

Or at least it would have to be.

“Four!”

Was it her imagination, or had he moved closer to her?

“Three!”

No, he was definitely closer now, his left arm pressed against her right–

“Two!”

She turned to look up at him and he was making the _weirdest_ face–mouth pulled tight and brows furrowed and looking like he wanted to either do something stupid or run away–

“One!”

Launch opened her mouth to wish him a happy new year and his lips landed clumsily on hers. He pulled back almost immediately and for the first time in her life she found herself speechless. Did he–he just–had he–

“Happy new year,” Tenshinhan said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–but I think I–”

Launch grabbed the front of his shirt to yank him down to her level. Happy new year _indeed_.


	37. Stupid Boys (Bulma/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by bringingyaoiback: "Can I request some Bulma/Lunch in honor of over 400 people admitting you're the greatest!"

“And _then_ he had the gall to say I was _overreacting_!” Bulma flopped onto her back dramatically. “I’ve never overreacted in my life, and he knows it!”

Lunch patted Bulma’s knee sympathetically. “I know.”

“I mean, it’s all well and good to say ‘look but don’t touch,’ but like.” She sat up and gestured to herself. “I’m supposed to be his girlfriend. Why would he ever even want to look at anything but _this_?”

Lunch bit her lip and willed herself not to do exactly that. If Bulma knew Lunch had a crush on her, she’d stop being her friend for sure. And Lunch would rather have Bulma as a friend than not have her at all. “No idea,” she murmured.

“Ugh, maybe we should just break up for good and be done with it.” Bulma sighed melodramatically. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea and all that.”

“That’s true!” Lunch tried not to sound too enthusiastic, but it was easier said than done. If Bulma and Yamcha really broke up for good, maybe she’d have more of a chance…

“Well, I don’t know.” Bulma drummed her fingernails on her leg. “He’s cute, and funny, and nice and strong to boot…and he’s good in bed.” She winked at Lunch, who tried to smile despite the fact that she felt like she was being strangled. “Maybe I’ll give him one last chance.”

Darn. Bulma was never going to go out with Lunch unless Lunch gave her some sort of hint. Cautiously, she reached out and took Bulma’s hand. “Well, if you’re ever looking for something different,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t shake, “you can always call me.”

Bulma’s eyes went wide and her face bloomed red. “Y-you, um–thanks?”

Lunch flashed her prettiest smile and dropped her hand. “I know a few boys who’d _love_ the chance to meet the most gorgeous scientist in West City!” She mentally patted herself on the back for the save. She was good.

“Oh.” Bulma looked down at her hand, still blushing. “I–yes. Boys.”


	38. Alternatives (Goku/Vegeta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by bringinyaoiback: "#59 (or we could make out) I don't even care with who XD"

“Go away, Kakarott.”

Kakarott leaned over the back of the couch, grinning like an idiot. “Come on, Vegeta!” He gave Vegeta a punch to the arm. Vegeta barely felt it; Kakarott had clearly not put much effort behind it. Asshole. “We should hang out! Maybe do something besides fight! It’ll be fun.”

“No.” Vegeta refused to look at Kakarott, instead keeping his eyes forward and his arms folded as he slouched against the back of the couch. “What could we possibly do together that’d be considered ‘fun’ that isn’t fighting?” Besides, Vegeta loved fighting Kakarott. Complain as he might, training together was the highlight of his day whenever they did. On days they didn’t train together he found himself even testier than usual, but the revelation made him uncomfortable and he didn’t like to think about it.

“There’s lots of stuff we can do.” Kakarott vaulted over the back of the couch and flopped next to Vegeta. “We could go fishing!”

“No.”

“Or hiking!”

“No.”

“Or we could go visit Kame House!”

“ _Gods_ no.” Vegeta turned his head just enough that Kakarott could get the full force of his glare. “I’m not going anywhere with you except to fight.”

Kakarott seemed to droop a little, looking away. Vegeta felt something tighten in his stomach and he realised he actually felt bad for him. He tried to brush the ridiculous feeling aside, but while he’d always been good at not showing his feelings, he’d never been good at not actually feeling them. He knew Kakarott was just looking for someone to spend time with to try and get over his failed marriage, and some small part of him was flattered that he’d chosen Vegeta for that. But he really, _really_ didn’t want to go anywhere with him.

Kakarott mumbled something, and Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

“I said…” Kakarott swallowed. “…Or we could make out…”

Vegeta’s blood froze. “Wh-what?”

When Kakarott glanced over at him again, he was blushing. “I mean, it’s just a suggestion. We don’t–”

Vegeta stopped him with a raised hand. “What the hell, Kakarott.”

“I said it was just a suggestion!” Kakarott folded his arms and pouted, and Vegeta’s stomach tightened again, but this time it wasn’t with his earlier guilt, it was…something else. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Do… _you_ want to?” Vegeta asked, and the idea of kissing Kakarott was getting more and more appealing the more he thought about it. His stomach fluttered and his heart started to pound.

He swallowed when Kakarott bit his lip before answering. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Well then.” Vegeta’s hand fell on Kakarott’s cheek, turning him towards him, because fuck it. “Why the hell not.”


	39. Training (Piccolo/Tien)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "So... 66 (K.) with Tien and Piccolo? Please?"

“Don’t even bother, Chiaotzu.” Tien walked past, towel around his neck. “He’s too _busy_.”

Piccolo cracked his eyes open to glare at him, and Tien shot him a smirk before turning away. The big green creep would’ve been a lousy sparring partner anyway; he didn’t see why Chiaotzu wanted him to train with them so badly in the first place. Ever since they’d gotten to King Kai’s planet–hell, even before that, when they were running down Snake Way–Piccolo had been nothing but standoffish and rude. Tien hadn’t expected much better from a man who used to call himself the Demon King, but Chiaotzu’s constant insistence was confusing. If Chiaotzu wanted to spar so badly, Tien would fight him gladly. He didn’t need Piccolo.

_Tien, you talk to him._

Shaking his head, Tien wiped sweat from his forehead with the towel. _No. I’ve got better things to do than fight the Demon King again._

Chiaotzu floated in front of him, arms folded and frowning. “He’s here to train,” he said, pointing at Piccolo. “But all he’s done since we got here is meditate!”

“Meditation is training too,” Piccolo growled.

“It is for people who actually use their psychic powers in battle,” Tien said, looking over his shoulder. Piccolo’s glare hadn’t faded, but Tien wasn’t so easily intimidated. “Like Chiaotzu. But you? I only know you have psychic powers because Chiaotzu told me.” Piccolo turned his glare on Chiaotzu, who wavered, but held firm. “So just be honest and say you don’t want to train with us because of your superiority complex.” Tien shrugged. “It’s your own loss. We’re going to train harder than we ever have while you sit around and mope, and _we’ll_ be the ones to surpass Goku.” He turned away again and took a breath to call for Yamcha.

“Wait.”

And there it was. Tien tried to suppress his triumphant smirk as he turned back to Piccolo. “What?” Honestly, he was so _easy_.

Piccolo stood, rising to his full height to loom over Tien. “I’ll fight you. If you manage to win, I’ll train with the rest of you.”

Tien’s eyes flicked to Piccolo’s chest, right in his line of vision, then back to Piccolo’s face. He would not be intimidated. “And if I lose?”

“ _When_ you lose,” Piccolo corrected, “I’ll go back to my own training and you and your friends will leave me alone for the rest of our time here. Understood?”

Tien shrugged. “Okay. It’s no skin off my nose.” He tossed his towel to the ground and took up his favourite fighting stance. “Come on, then. Or are you all talk?”

Instead of answering, Piccolo sent a fist directly at Tien’s nose. Tien ducked and grabbed for Piccolo’s wrist, kicking out at Piccolo’s legs when that didn’t work. They were soon a blur of fists and feet, knees and elbows, ki blasts and shouts. At some point, Tien wasn’t sure when, they took to the air, slamming into each other with thunderstorm force, then reeling back only to rush forward again. It was exhilarating, one of the best sparring matches Tien had had in a long time, and he knew he _had_ to win so he could keep sparring with Piccolo.

The planet’s increased gravity was starting to affect him, though, tiring him out quicker than Earth’s gravity would have. It was clearly getting to Piccolo as well, his chest heaving as he threw a punch at Tien’s stomach. Tien actually managed to catch it, and he wasn’t sure if it was just because Piccolo was tired but he’d take every advantage he could, yanking Piccolo forward to send a knee into his gut.

Piccolo’s eyes went wide and he choked, and Tien took the opportunity to hurl him towards the ground, streaking towards him. This was it–one more blow should do Piccolo in, and then they’d–

With a scream of anger, Piccolo managed to right himself and charged Tien, slamming their heads together. Tien reeled back and dropped out of the sky. He dimly registered green underneath him before crashing into the ground, and he groaned and clutched his head. That was going to leave a _huge_ goose egg for him to nurse for the next while. He sat up and looked around for Piccolo, not wanting him to use Tien’s distraction to his advantage, when a moan from below him caught his attention.

Tien’s head whipped down to see Piccolo splayed out below him, moaning dazedly and rubbing his own forehead. He quickly scrambled to pin Piccolo down better, kneeling on his legs and grabbing his arms to pin them over his head. “I’ve won,” he told Piccolo. “Submit to me.”

“Have not,” Piccolo retorted, squirming under him. Tien leaned more of his weight forward, hoping it would be enough. He just had to hold Piccolo down for long enough that he’d think he couldn’t get up again. Finally, Piccolo went limp, scowling at him. “Fine,” he spat, “I’ll train with the rest of you. Now get off of me.”

Grinning, Tien rolled off Piccolo, allowing him to sit up. Perfect. He’d be able to train with Piccolo again, and Yamcha would _love_ the opportunity to team up against the Demon King himself, and–

A hand grabbed his chin and yanked, and suddenly he was nose to nose with Piccolo. “But if you ever tell me to submit to you again,” he snarled, “I will destroy you without another thought. Is that understood?”

Tien’s eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see you try.”

Piccolo stared him down for a long moment. Then a smile tipped one side of his mouth up, revealing a flash of his fangs. “You might not be so bad after all,” he said. He released Tien’s face, giving his cheek a pat before moving away. “Training begins now. Stand up and face me again.”

Gingerly, Tien picked himself off the ground, wondering what the hell he’d just signed himself up for.


	40. Sundress (Bulma/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by bringingyaoiback: "Bulma/Launch with the “You always look good” prompt for yesterday’s prompt requests"

“No, really, you should get it.”

Launch fluffed the skirt of her dress. “I don’t know, Bulms. This is more Blue’s shit than mine.”

“It looks good on you, though!” Bulma grinned, taking in the sight of her girlfriend in a cute rose-patterned sundress. It wasn’t often that she could convince Launch’s rougher personality to try different clothes. “I know it’s not really your thing, but it _does_ look good.”

“You think so?” Launch looked down at herself, hands on her hips. “I could see Blue looking good in it, but not me.”

“Hey.” Bulma kissed Launch’s cheek. “You _always_ look good. And you look great in this! You should get it.”

“I don’t know.” Launch eyed the other dress she’d tried on earlier, a skimpy black number with an open back. “I like the other one more.”

“So get both.” Bulma shrugged. “You can wear the black one, and Blue’ll be happy we were thinking of her when she sees the sundress.”

“I can’t afford both; are you out of your gourd?!” Launch pulled back, grimacing. “And I ain’t lettin’ you buy them for me, either.”

“Fine.” Bulma folded her arms. “Go change and pay for the black dress. And then I’ll pay for the sundress.” She held up a hand when Launch started to protest. “You said I couldn’t buy them for you. I’m buying the sundress for Blue.” Launch glared at her and she grinned right back. “Come on, I’m your rich girlfriend. Let me spoil you a little.”

Launch rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But if you want me to wear this again, I’m expecting compensation, y’hear? I’m not wearing this unless you get yourself a matching one.”

Bulma’s grin widened and she kissed her girlfriend on the cheek again. “Deal.”


	41. Pretty (Maron/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by raxceni: "For the Valentine's Prompts for Femslash February: Maron (yeah blue haired Bulma Clone) and Launch for 4. “You always look good.” (TBH I'm curious to see what you do with it. I kinda just randomly thought of it, it's not like an actual ship...I don't think?)"

“Maron, _please_.” Launch rolled onto her stomach and stared dully up at Krillin’s girlfriend. “Let’s just go already. Bulma’ll be here in like ten minutes and if we’re not ready when she is she’ll raise hell.”

Maron turned to her and pouted, batting her blue eyes prettily. “But I have to look good for this, Launch! It’s the first time I’ve been invited out for a night on the town with the girls, and I’ve got to look my best so you’ll like me!”

Launch groaned and rolled onto her back. “You always look good. Now can we _go_?”

“Really?”

Launch looked up at Maron. From her place on the bed, she looked upside down, but Launch could still tell she was blushing. “You think I always look good?”

“Well, yeah.” Launch sat up, crossing one leg over the other. “I mean, you’ve got great hair, a killer bod with a _fine_ ass, and you know how to dress. You’re fucking hot, Maron. Honestly, you’re too hot for Krillin; why are you even going out with him?”

Maron’s blush deepened and she bit her lip, and was it Launch’s imagination or did Maron eye her rack before she turned back to the mirror? “I like him. He’s cute, and he makes me laugh.”

“Well, whatever, it’s not my business.” Launch flopped back on the bed again. “But hurry up, dammit, I want to get drinking already.”


	42. Shopping (Chi-Chi/Android 18)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "#12 (what does that have to do with anything?)... Chichi and Eighteen"

“Here, give him to me for a minute.”

Relieved, Chi-Chi handed her squirming baby to 18. “Thank you.”

18 shrugged and readjusted her grip on Goten. “No worries. I said I’d help you shop, right?” She gave Goten one of her fingers to grab and gnaw on. “Little demon,” she said to him. “Let your mommy shop in peace for once.”

Laughing, Chi-Chi turned back to pushing the cart. She really was glad to have 18 along with her for this shopping trip. Raising Goten on her own was so hard, even though Gohan was a model child and always did his best to help out. And taking Goten shopping was the worst if she didn’t have anyone to help her. Gohan had begged her to let him go visit Dende that day, and he’d been so good that she didn’t want to say no. And she couldn’t reschedule the shopping trip–Goten went through diapers faster than she could keep up with.

Thankfully, 18 was always ready to ditch her brother. Chi-Chi was always surprised 17 didn’t also come along, but privately grateful. Reformed or not, they _were_ still cyborgs that had originally been programmed to kill her husband. They hadn’t, but it had still been their original intention, and she could only handle one of them at a time.

Preferably 18. Chi-Chi was tired of being surrounded by men all the time. She needed more girl time.

“Hey, do you like coffee?”

Chi-Chi glanced at 18 as she loaded another box of diapers into her cart. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was just wondering.” Was it Chi-Chi’s imagination, or were 18′s cheeks pink? She readjusted her grip on Goten, not quite looking at Chi-Chi. “I mean, if you do, we could maybe go for coffee after this or something.”

Oh. Chi-Chi’s eyes widened. “18, are…are you asking me out?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. If you want me to be. Or we could just go for coffee as friends.” She looked over at Chi-Chi, face unreadable. “That’s up to you.”

Chi-Chi looked down at her hands where they gripped the cart. Did she want to go? Well, she was always up to go out for coffee, but did she want to go with 18 as friends or…or as dates? Part of her was still in love with Goku, but it had been over a year now–he definitely wasn’t coming back. And the other part…

She peeked up at 18 and saw her look away again, brush hair behind her ear with careful nonchalance.

“Well,” she said carefully, “I don’t know that now is a good time.”

18 didn’t move. “I see.” Everything about her was in a state of forced neutrality: her face, her body, her speech, and Chi-Chi realized she’d been misunderstood.

“No, what I mean is, maybe we shouldn’t go with a screaming baby in tow.” She winked. “Might make for an awkward first date.”

As 18′s eyes lit up, Chi-Chi knew she’d made the right decision.


	43. Mario Karting (Android 18/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by spiritbathbomb: "18/Blue Launch with prompt #6 (Listen, I love you more than anything else in the world. But I’m not letting you beat me at Mario Kart.) for yesterdays’ prompt meme"

“Again?!” 18 threw her hands up in frustration, scowling at the television screen. “How?! Every single time, you beat me. How are you so good at this?!”

Launch smiled demurely and patted her girlfriend’s shoulder consolingly. “You forget, I’ve spent a lot of time killing time hiding from the law whenever Blondie gets us in trouble. I’ve picked up a few skills.”

“A few?!” 18 pointed at the screen. “Fifteen matches, and you’ve won fourteen. And the only reason you lost one was because the timer went off in the middle of a race and you dashed off to get the cookies out of the oven. In every weight class, on every track, in every tournament. Can’t I win _one_?”

“Oh, honey.” Launch kissed 18′s cheek. “Listen, I love you more than anything else in the world. But I’m not letting you beat me at Mario Kart.” She picked up her controller again. “Come on, one more shot? I promise not to play as a character I’m good at this time!”


	44. Failed Date (Gohan/Videl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "Videl&Gohan: “The date didn’t go well. Yeah, she/he didn’t like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.”"

Videl clapped Gohan on the back. “So? How’d it go?”

Gohan twisted his hands together and didn’t look her in the eye. “Um. Fine.”

She folded her arms. “You blew it, didn’t you. Gohan she’s the easiest girl in the school to get along with! How could you possibly have messed that up?”

Gohan sighed. “I don’t know. I _thought_ it was going well, but I guess she didn’t like how I kept mentioning all of our adventures.”

“Well, _duh_.” Videl slugged him in the arm. “Of course she didn’t like that! You were supposed to be on a _date_ ; what kind of girl would be okay with her date talking about another girl all the time?”

His head snapped up to look at her with sudden panic. “That was supposed to be a _date_?!”

Videl blinked. “Uh, yeah. Of course it was.”

He was rapidly turning red now, and she idly thought he was cute when he was flustered before shoving the thought to the back of her subconscious. “I–I didn’t know. I just thought she wanted to be friends. If I’d known it was supposed to be a date I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Seriously?” Videl propped her hands on her hips. “She’s so cute though! Why wouldn’t you want to date her?”

Gohan looked at the floor. His blush spread to the tips of his ears. “M-maybe I’ve already got someone else I’d rather date,” he mumbled.

Videl swallowed. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? “Yeah? Who?”

He bit his lip and stumbled back, away from her, not looking at her. “I-I have to go now, bye!” he stammered before turning and blasting into the sky, far faster than she could follow.

“Coward!” she screamed after him, balling her hands into fists. She’d get it out of him yet.


	45. Teach Me To Kiss (Bulma/Chi-Chi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "BulChi - “Just remember, he/she’s not the one who taught you how to kiss.”"

“Look, Chi-Chi, I love Son, you know I do.” Bulma wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “But you’ve gotta start looking for someone else already. It’s been four years. He’s not coming back.”

Chi-Chi shrugged, but she didn’t move Bulma’s arm. It was comforting, being so close. “I know he’s not coming back. I’ve made my peace with that.” She sighed. “But he’s the only man I’ve ever loved like that! I can’t just _decide_ to fall in love with someone else.” Bulma snorted and Chi-Chi rolled her eyes. “I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve never been one for a normal relationship.”

“Hey, I’m plenty _interested_ in normal relationships,” Bulma shot back. “I just never had one because I have shit taste in men. Fuck, _Yamcha_ has better taste in men than me.”

Oh, right, Yamcha was going out with Tien now. Chi-Chi had forgotten. “Still, I’ve only ever had Goku. It would feel wrong to date someone else.”

“Hey, come on.” Bulma squeezed her shoulder. “You’re super hot! You could find someone no problem.” Chi-Chi flushed at the compliment. For someone as glamorous as Bulma to think she was attractive…it was sweet, even if she didn’t really mean it. “Besides, don’t forget he’s not even the one who taught you how to kiss.”

Chi-Chi’s eyes widened and she looked at Bulma to see a big shit-eating grin on her face. She swallowed. It had been years since she thought about the embarrassing time before her wedding that she’d tearfully confessed to Bulma that she didn’t know how to kiss, and she was getting _married_ soon and Goku would be expecting _her_ to know what to do and what was she supposed to _do_ , and Bulma had offered to teach her. And then she’d let her, and maybe they’d gotten a little _too_ into it, and they’d both agreed never to speak of it again, but sometimes when Chi-Chi was kissing Goku she’d find herself comparing him to Bulma and…

Bulma pulled her closer and rested her other hand on Chi-Chi’s knee. “Come on, Chi-Chi, what do you say?” she murmured. She rested her forehead on Chi-Chi’s and stared intently, seriously, into her eyes. “You’re hot and sweet and you’ve got a temper to match mine. I’d love to make you happy. Want to give it a shot?”

Chi-Chi’s gaze flicked to Bulma’s lips before straight back to her eyes. “I-I–I’m out of practise,” she stammered.

“That’s okay.” Bulma leaned forward. “I can teach you again.”


	46. Shared Capes (Piccolo/Chi-Chi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by pickleandthequeen: "“You can share my jacket with me, since you’re shivering.” ...I mean. Friendshippy Piccolo and Chichi? If you want?"

Chi-Chi rubbed her bare arms. Summer was definitely over–it was officially time to start wearing her long-sleeved dresses again. She’d tried to hold off as long as she could, but, well, she was getting older, and she couldn’t handle the cold as well as she used to.

“You look cold.”

Years ago, she would have flinched at Piccolo speaking suddenly from behind her. Even longer ago than that, she would have sent a foot straight into his jaw without a second thought. Instead, she didn’t even look at him, instead keeping her eyes trained on Gohan and Goten as they ran up the hill towards the house. “I’m fine. Just waiting for my boys, that’s all.”

“They can go faster than that, you know they can.” Piccolo’s voice was less annoyed than usual. “You should yell at them for making their poor mother wait for them in the cold.”

“Poor mother nothing.” Chi-Chi sent a playful glare up at him. “I’m not so helpless as you might think.”

“Maybe not, but you’re shivering,” he pointed out. “You can share my cape with me, if you want.”

Chi-Chi blinked. In all the years they’d known each other, all the time they’d spent together, Piccolo had never offered something like this. “If you don’t mind,” she said.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Piccolo held out one side of his cape and she tucked herself tentatively into his side. “There. Isn’t that better?” Piccolo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she shivered.

“How’re you so dang warm?” she demanded. “I’m out here freezin’ my ass off and here you are burning up the place!”

“It’s the cape.” Piccolo shrugged. “Your kids are taking a long time.”

It was her turn to shrug. “I’m used to waiting.”

“That’s not right.” Piccolo was frowning down at her when she looked up. “I know I don’t have much ground to stand on here, but you’re always waiting on somebody, and that’s not right. You’ve got your own shit to worry about. You don’t need to be waiting on others all the time.”

“Aren’t you the little gentleman.” Chi-Chi elbowed him in the side. It was like elbowing a brick wall. “Like I said, I’m used to it. Waiting for Goku to come keep his promise, waiting for news about my son, waiting for people to come back…I’ve spent a lot of time waiting.” She laughed. “I’m used to it, but that don’t really make me much good at it. I’m impatient. Pa says I get that from my ma.”

Piccolo grunted. “I still say you should give them an earful when they get back. Shouldn’t leave someone as pretty as you waiting.”

She blinked and stared up at him. Was it her imagination, or was his face a little darker? It was hard to tell in the fading light. “A-aren’t you the charmer tonight,” she managed.

“I have to go.” Piccolo retracted himself and his cape from her and backed up. “Please apologise to Gohan for me.” And he was gone, the force of his departing ki sending her hair and dress flying.

“Jerk!” Chi-Chi yelled after him, but she could feel her face was flushed, too.


	47. For Science (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "“Listen, it’s for science.” Would fit Bulma testing or examining the Namekians"
> 
> (Katatosho is my Namekian Xenoverse OC)

The table was cold and hard and uncomfortable and whatever metal it was made out of was sticking to Katatosho’s bare thighs. He squirmed, unsticking a leg from the table and adjusting the flimsy paper gown he’d been given to wear. He wasn’t sure why he needed it. The tiny doctor human–Bulma?–had said something about modesty, but Katatosho didn’t think it was that much of an issue.

Bulma bustled around the lab, scrawling things on papers and gathering increasingly scary-looking metal instruments. Katatosho eyed them warily. He didn’t like any of this, but Bulma and her family had been so helpful and compassionate towards his people that when she’d asked for volunteers for her research he’d felt obligated to help out. Now, though, he was starting to have second thoughts.

“Okay!” Bulma turned to Katatosho with a cheery grin on her face and a long, slim, metal tool in one hand. “Ready to get started?”

Katatosho squirmed. “I suppose.”

“Listen, it’s for science.” Bulma twirled the tool as she approached. “Don’t worry, this shit looks a lot scarier than it is. I’m just looking for some cheek swabs, nail clippings, dead skin, you know. Nothing that’ll hurt.” He nodded, still apprehensive, though her reassurances did help. “Great. Open wide.”

“Open…what?” He cocked his head slightly, staring confusedly at her.

“Your mouth. Open nice and wide so I can stick this in there.” She held up the tool with some kind of cotton on the end of it. “It’s just a cheek swab, so it might be uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt.”

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Katatosho complied. Bulma gently scraped the side of his mouth and immediately retracted the tool, grinning at him. “There, see, was that so bad?”

He felt his face go purple. That was all? “No,” he mumbled.

“Thanks for all this, by the way.” Bulma deposited the cotton in a small round dish and set the tool aside, picking another one up instead. “Our resident Namekian would never let me get this up close and personal, but if he’s sticking around I’d like to have a general idea of how his body works in case something happens.”

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, holding out his hand when she gestured to it. “After all.” He cracked a wry smile as she trimmed off the ends of a few nails. “It’s for science.”


	48. Thanks, Dad (Gen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "Piccolo yelling at any of the Son's to "AT LEAST BREATHE IN BETWEEN BITES!!""

Chi-Chi was the only one with any semblance of table manners. Piccolo pitied her most days, wondering if she was so thin because of how much her boys ate. Gohan tried, but even he had a hard time keeping up with his brother. It was the one reason Piccolo was a little relieved that Goku hadn’t come back–he couldn’t imagine the stress of feeding three hungry Saiyans.

He often stopped in to check on his favourite pupil and his family, doing his best to make sure they weren’t too badly off. Others did too, he knew–Yamcha and Krillin in particular were at Mount Paozu a fair bit, Krillin less so now that he had a family of his own. But he wasn’t content with the occasional visit from a fifteen year old who always downplayed his feelings, so he had to check in on them himself. Besides, that way he could at least bring them a fish or dinosaur or something so he knew they were eating properly. Piccolo didn’t need to eat, but he understood the importance.

Which was how he ended up sitting at the table, awkwardly sipping water and attempting to eat a bowl of rice. Chi-Chi ate slowly and sipped at her tea. Gohan did his best to eat properly, if quickly. Goten didn’t even try. He just shoveled food into his mouth as fast as he could. Piccolo wasn’t even sure he was chewing half of it.

“At least breathe between bites,” he snapped. Goten stopped, staring wide-eyed at Piccolo with his cheeks bulging comically. Piccolo suddenly realised he’d just accidentally parented and looked down at his rice, embarrassed. He tried to leave that to more qualified people, but sometimes things just slipped out.

Goten swallowed his food. “Sorry, Dad.”

Piccolo’s head snapped up and he stared at Goten, who didn’t seem to realise what he’d said and was happily eating again, although slower. Piccolo’s face warmed. Goten was only four, he didn’t really know much about anything yet, he hadn’t meant it. But it still made Piccolo happy for some reason. And it was _embarrassing_.

He glanced at Chi-Chi, who sighed and said “I’ll talk with him again later.” Piccolo flushed darker. Again? This was a recurring thing?

Gohan giggled and Piccolo glared at him. Instead of ducking his head in shame like he might have a few years ago, Gohan just grinned at him. “Want to play catch later?” Gohan asked, still grinning like this was some big joke.

If it was a joke, Piccolo didn’t know the punchline. Catch sounded pretty good, though. As training exercises went, it wasn’t much of one, but it was with Gohan and Goten, so that was at least a couple hours where Chi-Chi could look after herself for a bit. He nodded. “Sure.”

Gohan’s grin widened, and Piccolo got the feeling he was being laughed at. “Great! Thanks, _Dad_.”

The tips of Piccolo’s ears burned. He’d been set up. Standing abruptly with a scrape of his chair legs, he glared down at Gohan before turning to Chi-Chi. “Tell your sons that I’ll meet them outside when they’re done being ridiculous.” Chi-Chi nodded, a barely suppressed smile making her eyes dance. Still glowering, Piccolo stalked to the door.

“Goodness,” he heard Chi-Chi say as he left, “Gohan, I didn’t realise I had _two_ husbands.”

“You don’t!” he bellowed, slamming the door behind him.


	49. Surprise (Raditz/Jeice/Broly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Hi Ed! It's been a while, but congrats on the 100 followers! You deserve them. Is it okay if I request a fic too? I'm feeling a little adventurous so maybe an OT3 with Raditz, Jeice and Broly? If that's okay. Um, it can be anything you want, btw, not really sure what scenario I want (but a bit of angst is always good ;) ). Thank you and take care!"

Generally speaking, when Raditz wanted something, he went and got it. He wasn’t used to getting his way, not after spending his formative years with the bratty Prince of All Saiyans, but he knew what he wanted, and he took it. Or he’d at least try. Raditz was definitely not beneath fighting for something he wanted. As far as he was concerned, that was the only way to get what you wanted, anyway.

When he first came to Earth, he’d wanted his brother’s help. Now he wanted his brother’s approval. He was slowly making progress on that front, fighting tooth and nail for every little advantage he could get. He helped Kakarott’s wife around the house, he took care of Kakarott’s brat sometimes, he sparred and fought with Kakarott and joked with him while they licked their wounds afterwards.

But while most of his wants were under control, there was one that he felt was beyond his control. His leg bounced as he looked between Jeice and Broly, wondering what he should do. Jeice was chattering away with Yamcha, talking about baseball or something. Broly stood a little ways away, watching the party silently by himself. Jeice was small and adorable with still a lot of power to his name, beautiful hair and a winning smile. Broly was tall, quiet, stronger than anyone else Raditz knew, and hot as hell. Both of them were completely out of his league.

So of course Raditz had fallen for both of them.

Raditz ran a hand through his hair and growled under his breath. This shouldn’t be so hard. It wasn’t like he’d never had feelings for anyone before. He just hadn’t had feelings for two people at once before. What the hell would he do if neither of them liked him back? It’d destroy him. He stood and stalked off, ignoring Kakarott’s shout to join him at the food table. Raditz needed to be alone for a bit.

“Hello.”

Raditz jumped at Broly’s quiet voice next to him. “Hey,” he said, trying not to show how startled he was. For such a big guy, Broly was fast and quiet. “I was just–”

“Having some alone time, I know.” Broly fell into step beside him. “Can I join you?”

“Well, it won’t be alone time anymore, then, will it?” Raditz cracked a wry grin at Broly, grateful for his ability to appear cool and casual even when he was flustered beyond belief. His smile wavered when Broly gave a soft smile in return. Oh, fuck, he was done for. That was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever seen Broly do. “But yeah, sure, whatever,” he added, trying to shrug nonchalantly. “If you want.”

Something latched onto Raditz’s left arm and he yelled, stumbling. Jeice grinned up at him. “Gettin’ away from the bozos, eh? Mind if I join in?”

Raditz gulped. It was bad enough to have one of his crushes come after him to try to spend time with him (and he still wasn’t sure why they would want to), but both of them? It was too much. He nodded, not bothering to try and wrestle his arm back. “Sure. Okay. Broly?”

Broly was smirking, and maybe Raditz shouldn’t have found that quite so hot but he couldn’t _help_ it. “Absolutely.”

Raditz got the feeling that there was something going on that he was the only one not aware of. Broly took his other arm and Raditz stumbled along between them, trying not to panic. What was going on? Where were they even going anymore?

They stopped somewhere deep in the Capsule Corp complex, and both men let go of Raditz rather abruptly. Raditz slowly backed away from both of them, fully aware they were each far more powerful than he was. “What’s going on?” he asked warily, hands shifting up into a defensive stance almost automatically. If they wanted a fight, he’d damn well give them one.

Jeice laughed, and Broly smiled, and there wasn’t a trace of malice in either. Raditz backed up another step and found himself against a wall. He swallowed. “We ain’t here to hurt you,” Jeice reassured him, walking over and putting a comforting hand on Raditz’s arm. Raditz tried to relax. “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What about?” Raditz asked, eyeing Broly as he stepped forward too. He willed himself not to flinch as one of Broly’s huge hands cupped his cheek and–what? No, that wasn’t right, that was too gentle, too intimate, and yeah that was what Raditz wanted, but why would Broly want that too?

“About this,” Broly said, leaning in and gently pressing their lips together. Raditz’s eyes widened and he froze in shock for a moment. A million thoughts ran through his head, so fast he couldn’t focus on any of them. His eyes slid closed before he could really think about it, and he kissed Broly back, heart hammering a mile a minute. After only a few seconds, Broly moved back, and when Raditz opened his eyes Jeice was watching the whole thing with a smile.

“What…” He trailed off, fingers coming up to brush his lips. Broly had kissed him. Broly had kissed him while Jeice watched. Broly had kissed him and he’d kissed Broly back while Jeice watched _with approval_. His head spun. “You–you’re–I–”

“It’s like this,” Jeice explained. “We both like you, and you like both of us. So why not give it a shot?”

Raditz flushed. How had he been found out so easily? “Yes,” he blurted, looking between them, still pinned to the wall. “I’d love that.”

Broly smiled and stroked Raditz’s hair, and Jeice grinned and leaned in to kiss him, and Raditz closed his eyes and was glad he hadn’t actually gotten his alone time.


	50. Bed Sharing (Trunks/Goten)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by yamchaenthusiast: "Could you please do that "forced to share a bed" prompt thing with trunks and goten?"

Goten had been sharing a bed with Trunks since they were kids. That was just how things were. One of them would sleep over at the other’s house and they’d always end up sleeping in the same bed. According to Trunks and his mom, that was just what you _did_ at sleepovers. It was never a big deal. They’d wake up with feet in faces and messy hair and big stupid grins and go downstairs for homemade waffles.

It started being a big deal when they started getting older, though.

Goten tried to keep it chill. Just because they were older didn’t mean things had to be weird all of a sudden. Trunks always insisted they stay in the same bed anyway. And it wasn’t weird, or at least Goten always told himself that. Sometimes Trunks would thrash awake in the night and Goten would always hold him while he calmed down. Sometimes Trunks would kick Goten awake because he was snoring. He woke up with his arms around Trunks more often than not, Trunks’s face pressed into Goten’s hair. They’d toss the blankets off during the night and use each other for warmth. It was always an unspoken rule between them that they’d never talk about what had happened the night before. And for the most part, it went alright.

The way Goten’s heart pounded when Trunks was curled up with him was normal. They were best friends. It wasn’t anything that wouldn’t happen with anyone else Goten was friends with. His jealousy over the girls Trunks paid attention to was because he wanted to spend time with his best friend, and if Trunks had a girlfriend he’d have less time for Goten. Normal. Not weird at all.

“Hey.”

Trunks blinked sleepily at Goten, their faces too close from their sleeping positions. Goten’s eyes flicked to Trunks’s lips before he could stop them and he swallowed. “What’s up?” he whispered back, voice raspy with sleep.

“You ever think we’re getting too old for this?”

Goten’s blood froze. “But…we’ve always slept together.”

“Yeah.” Trunks rubbed his eyes and sat up a little, leaning over Goten on one elbow. “But we’re teenagers now. Isn’t it weird?”

“Not for me.” Goten wanted to pull Trunks to him and–what? Go back to sleep? He was startled when that wasn’t what he wanted. What did he want, then? He wrapped an arm around Trunks’s neck. “Go back to sleep,” he said. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was all he could think of.

Trunks started to move, but instead of lying next to Goten he was leaning down towards Goten’s face. Goten blinked, realising what was happening too late. Trunks’s chapped lips pressed against his quickly, pulling away almost immediately. Goten’s mouth dropped open and he stared up at Trunks, brain grinding to a halt. Trunks stared defiantly down at him, but Goten knew him well enough to know the telltale worry in his eyes–the worry that he’d fucked up.

That was what he’d wanted. Goten shakily raised his other hand and touched his lips. He’d wanted to pull Trunks to him and kiss him. Oh, Kami, it _was_ weird, it was so weird, how long had he felt this way about Trunks and just ignored it and pushed it down because he didn’t want to make Trunks hate him for having a crush on him and–

“What do you think?” Trunks shifted. “Is it weird now?”

Goten made a decision, meeting Trunks’s defiant gaze with one of his own. “No,” he said, pulling Trunks forward and kissing him again.


	51. You Can't Punch Your Feelings (Vegeta/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by spiritbathbomb: "prompt 25 “I’ve never felt this way before… and to be honest, it scares the living shit out of me.” with Vegeta/Yamcha"

Yamcha had been completely and totally fine with his usual relationship with Vegeta, which was a tentative, awkward friendship, one that generally involved a lot of yelling and snark. Some days, Yamcha was pretty sure that the only reason he was still breathing was because he was friends with Bulma, and if Vegeta wanted to keep relying on her for free food and use of the gravity chamber, he had to keep himself from killing her friends if they annoyed him.

Or, at least, that was how their relationship _started_.

It had taken years, but over time Vegeta had somehow wedged himself into their inner circle, and even Yamcha, who had probably more reasons to hate him than any of the others, found that he’d be upset if Vegeta left for good. Others less so–he knew Tien still hated and distrusted Vegeta as much as he did the day they first met, but Yamcha had never been all that good at holding grudges. Hell, he wouldn’t be as close with Tien if he was. And it had taken a long time, but he’d finally mellowed out a little. Yes, Vegeta was still intense as ever, always training to defeat Goku. He was crass and rude and a downright jerk.

But when it came right down to it, Vegeta could be counted on to make sure Bulma and her family were safe in an emergency. He did care about the fate of the world, even if it was (as Yamcha suspected) only because he lived on it. And every so often he’d look at Yamcha, actually make direct eye contact, and smile, and Yamcha would have to pause for a moment to collect himself because Vegeta was _really_ handsome.

Besides, if Yamcha could accept Piccolo, surely he could accept Vegeta, too.

“You’re too nice,” Tien informed him bluntly when Yamcha brought it up. “He tried to destroy the world, remember? He tried to kill all of us, and the only reason he _didn’t_ was because others got to it first.”

Yamcha shrugged. “I used to be a bandit and you used to be an assassin.”

“He _blew up planets_ , Yamcha. Forgive me if I have a hard time seeing eye to eye with him.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, I don’t see eye to eye with him either–”

“If you make a crack about his height I’m leaving.”

Yamcha grinned sheepishly. “Okay, but aside from that. I don’t like him, I think, but I don’t _hate_ him. I think.”

Tien raised an eyebrow. “You _think_? You don’t know?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, sometimes he’ll be doing something and I’ll forget he used to be a homicidal maniac monkey-man from outer space. Like the way he looks at Trunks when he thinks no one’s watching him. He puts on a front, but I think Trunks is the one person he really cares about. And that’s…I guess I can see why Bulma puts up with him. You know?”

Tien shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I’m not going to tell you what to do. If you want to be friends with Vegeta, I’m not going to stop you.” He paused. “I will tell you to be careful, though. Vegeta’s…unpredictable.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Yamcha laughed.

~~~

Somewhere, though, over the last few months since that conversation, things had changed and shifted again. Yamcha caught himself staring at Vegeta, and sometimes he’d catch Vegeta staring back. Every time Dr. Briefs came into the store Yamcha worked at part-time, Vegeta was there, following grumpily behind him with one eye on Yamcha the whole time. Whenever Yamcha dropped by Capsule Corp to talk to Bulma, he could always feel Vegeta’s badly-suppressed ki somewhere close by.

It was unnerving, but Vegeta never seemed hostile. He certainly seemed uncomfortable and even a little confused, but never like he was planning on attacking Yamcha. He hardly ever exchanged words with him, though.

Eventually, Yamcha got fed up.

“You wanna sit?” he asked. Vegeta balked from his position in the doorway, staring at Yamcha like he’d grown a second head. Yamcha gestured to the kitchen table, especially the plate of sandwiches Bulma’s mother had made for Yamcha while he waited for Bulma to be done in the lab. “There’s too many for me to eat by myself,” he said. “I’m sure you’re hungry–you always are. Have a sandwich.”

Vegeta squinted at Yamcha suspiciously, but to his surprise walked into the room and sat heavily in the chair next to Yamcha. He snatched one of the sandwiches and shoved it in his mouth whole, staring moodily at Yamcha the whole time. Yamcha blinked and scooted his chair a little further from Vegeta. He was becoming a better person, for sure, but his idea of personal space still left a lot to be desired. And he stank. Clearly he’d just left the gravity chamber for a break from training. The sweat dripping down his neck and disappearing under the collar of his too-tight tank top would’ve been a dead giveaway if the smell hadn’t tipped Yamcha off.

He flushed and went back to his sandwich. What the hell was he doing staring at Vegeta’s chest?

“Why are you here?”

Vegeta’s voice was raspy and Yamcha wondered if he was coming down with a cold or if his voice was just tired from all the screaming he did while he trained. He looked back at Vegeta and saw him looking him steadily in the eyes. Yamcha blinked. Was…was this Vegeta’s version of small talk?

“Just came to see Bulma.” Yamcha shrugged and reached for another sandwich. “Nothing special.”

“Why?” Vegeta’s face darkened and Yamcha swallowed. He’d have to be careful how he answered–but he didn’t know what the right answer was. Honesty was the best policy, probably, except in this case it might get him killed. He knew full well how Vegeta could be when it came to Bulma.

“Because we’re friends,” he said simply. “We might not be dating anymore, but we still like to hang out sometimes.” He resisted the urge to ask whether that was okay. Vegeta had no say in who Bulma chose to spend time with. And it wasn’t like they were actually together–both Bulma and Vegeta were adamant about reminding people of that.

Vegeta nodded. “Good.” He grabbed another sandwich and pointed it at Yamcha. “Keep it that way.”

Yamcha frowned. “Keep it what way?”

“You and her. Friends. That’s all. Keep it that way.”

“Seriously?” Yamcha shook his head. “First of all, that ship sailed years ago. Secondly, you’re not even her boyfriend, and you’re definitely not her dad. You don’t have any say in who she dates.”

“Not her, you idiot.” Vegeta stood and glared down at him. “I’m talking about you.”

Yamcha’s mouth went dry. “What?”

Vegeta shrugged. “Whatever.” He turned and started to leave and something in Yamcha snapped. He lunged to grab Vegeta’s wrist and Vegeta stopped, turning back to him. “What now?”

“You–you can’t just say something like that and then _leave_!” Yamcha snapped. “What are you talking about?”

Vegeta yanked his wrist away. “I just don’t like you dating people. That’s all. There’s nothing weird about it.”

“Yeah, there kind of is!” Yamcha folded his arms and glared. “Why is it any business of yours who I date?” Not that Yamcha had gotten many dates since he and Bulma broke up for good. He’d had a few, and others he’d turned down for one reason or another, but not many. But that wasn’t really the point.

Vegeta squirmed, actually squirmed, and looked away, clutching the ends of the towel around his neck. “I just don’t like it.” He glared at Yamcha. “And it’s in your best interests to keep me happy.” With that, he turned and stalked out of the room.

Yamcha stared after him, wondering what the hell Vegeta’s problem was now.

~~~

“Train with me.”

Yamcha paused midstep and looked over his shoulder. He’d just been about to leave Capsule Corp after an afternoon of hanging out and talking shop with Bulma. He’d been able to push the incident with Vegeta earlier to the back of his mind, but with Vegeta next to him again the memory came back full force.

Vegeta’s arms were crossed, and he glared up at Yamcha as if he was daring him to say no. “I said, train with me,” he repeated. “You’ve been slacking and it won’t do.”

Yamcha shrugged and backed up a step. “I don’t think I could keep up with you. You drag me into that chamber of yours and I’m not going to last very long.”

A light flush spread across Vegeta’s cheeks and he glanced away for a moment. Yamcha suddenly realised what he’d said. “Not like that!” he snapped, embarrassed. “I mean physically! Fighting, physically! In combat!” He buried his face in his hands and groaned. All he was doing was digging himself deeper.

“I won’t turn on the gravity.” A hand grabbed the front of Yamcha’s shirt and he was yanked forward. Yamcha squawked with surprise and his hands shot out to steady himself against the nearest available surface–Vegeta’s shoulders. Vegeta’s face was now just inches from his own, his expression just as intense as ever, but there was something else to it, too, something different about the heat coming from him. Yamcha swallowed. “Train with me,” Vegeta said again, quieter.

Yamcha licked his lips. They were so dry all of a sudden. “Why?”

“Because–” Vegeta leaned back, looking confused, like he hadn’t expected the question and for once didn’t have an answer prepared. “I like you.”

“Uh–” Yamcha could feel his face heating up to the tips of his ears. “Y-you mean like as a friend, right?”

“Of course,” Vegeta scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then he hesitated. “We… _are_ friends now, I suppose.”

Despite himself, Yamcha felt a smile spread across his face. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Vegeta nodded once, decisively. “And friends train together, spend time together. You spent time with Bulma today because you’re friends. Now it’s my turn.”

“Vegeta, look, I’m flattered, but–” Yamcha shook his head and pulled back, and to his surprise Vegeta allowed it. “It’s getting late, and if I’m not home to cook dinner Puar’ll have my head. I promised.” Vegeta scowled and Yamcha shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering if he’d just signed his own death warrant. “Look, do–did you just want to train with me as a way to spend time with me and that’s all you could think of, or because you wanted to train and I just happened to be around?”

Vegeta didn’t look at him, instead contemplating the ground. “The former.”

“Oh.” Yamcha’s stomach fluttered. “Well look, do you–Puar wouldn’t mind, I don’t think, but do you want to come back to my place? I can’t feed you too well, I mean I’m not rich or anything, but I’ll make you dinner.” He offered Vegeta a lopsided grin. “I’m a damn good cook, you know.”

“I didn’t know.” Vegeta still looked grouchy as always, but something about him seemed softer already. Yamcha couldn’t tell if it was his face, his posture, his voice, or something else, but it was kind of nice. “Yes. I’ll go with you.”

And Yamcha came to the sudden realisation that he’d just invited Vegeta to his apartment. What the _hell_ had he gotten himself into?

~~~

Yamcha flopped onto the couch with a sigh. Vegeta sat next to him, legs crossed and arms folded, hardly even leaning into the couch. “You can relax, you know,” Yamcha told him. He’d been this way all through supper, to the point where Puar had left as soon as she figured out that Vegeta wasn’t leaving immediately afterwards. The atmosphere in the apartment was scarily tense. “I know it’s a bit of a foreign concept for you, but you _are_ allowed to just chill. We’re friends, remember? You said so yourself.”

Vegeta grunted, but slowly eased back into the cushions. He glanced at Yamcha, then back in front of him. “I am not good at small talk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Yamcha grinned. “I mean, your idea of small talk is “why are you here,” so yeah.”

Vegeta turned towards him, scrutinizing his face. “Alright, I give up.”

Yamcha’s smile faltered. “What?” Vegeta never gave up on anything. It was one of the things Yamcha liked about him, one of the better parts of his personality. What could he possibly be giving up on?

“You are confusing.” Vegeta pointed at Yamcha. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel about you and I have had no success.”

Yamcha sat up and faced Vegeta fully. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I thought that’s what we said.”

Vegeta waved him off. “I know what friendship is like. This is not that.”

“Do you?” Yamcha’s eyebrow raised doubtfully. “Name one person you count as a friend that isn’t me, Bulma, or Trunks.”

He faltered. “Kak–no. Bulma’s parents.”

Yamcha buried his smirk and didn’t comment on the fact that Vegeta had almost admitted he actually liked Goku. “Okay, fine. So you have different feelings for me than you do Bulma or her parents?”

“Yes.” Vegeta maintained steady, unwavering eye contact with Yamcha.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Yamcha shook his head. “Look, how do you feel about me? Like when you look at me, or when we’re talking.” Vegeta glared and Yamcha shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got, man. I want to know this answer just as much as you do.” There were butterflies in Yamcha’s stomach for the first time in years. He didn’t know what to do. But he managed to keep his voice steady, and he didn’t waver. Hopefully he came across as more confident than he felt.

“When I see you.” Vegeta looked Yamcha up and down slowly, and Yamcha blushed. Was he checking him out? No, that would be stupid. “You’re very attractive.”

Yamcha’s heart stuttered. “P-pardon?”

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re a good-looking man, well-groomed and with strong features. That’s all.”

“So,” Yamcha said, voice shaking, “when you look at me you think about…how attractive I am?”

“Yes.” Vegeta shook his head. “It’s not like I’ve never found anyone attractive before, Yamcha.” Yamcha swallowed. He didn’t remember the last time he’d heard Vegeta say his name, and there was something about hearing it said in that low growl that really did it for him. “That is not the way I’ve never felt–I’ve felt that way about many people. The new feeling is that I want to spend time with you. I’m not used to that.” He stared at a point over Yamcha’s shoulder, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to concentrate. “Because I enjoy your company, I think, whatever you might think about that. You are intelligent, but not obnoxious about it, and for some reason you offer me _kindness_.” He almost spat the word, but more confused than angry. “It makes me happy, and I don’t know why. I’ve never felt this way before. And to be honest it–” He paused and looked Yamcha straight in the eye. “It scares the living shit out of me.”

Yamcha’s eyes widened and he leaned back in shock. He’d never heard Vegeta openly admit to being afraid of anything before. Although, he supposed, Vegeta’s preferred method of dealing with things was to punch them, and try as he might he couldn’t punch his feelings. “Vegeta,” he said slowly, “do you like me as a friend or–do you _like_ like me?” He felt like an idiot using such grade-school language, but he wasn’t sure Vegeta would react well to the other L word yet. Or how he would react himself.

Vegeta’s eyes flicked to Yamcha’s mouth and he licked his lips. “Yes.”

“No, I mean–look, do you want to hang out and spend time together as friends, or do you want to k-kiss me?” Yamcha stammered. This was going downhill fast.

“ _Yes_.” Vegeta leaned forward, eyes intently on Yamcha’s. Yamcha held his ground as Vegeta put his face inches from his own. “I want both of those things.”

Yamcha squeezed his eyes shut. “Vegeta, I think you _love_ me–mmph!”

His eyes flew open at the feeling of a pair of lips on his, and Vegeta was kissing him. Holy _fuck_. What did he do? He couldn’t back up because he was pressed against the arm of the couch, and he didn’t have enough strength to throw Vegeta off him. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Vegeta moved back, opening his eyes, and Yamcha stared wide-eyed at him as he tried to figure out what was happening. Bad enough that Vegeta was apparently in love with him, but for him to kiss Yamcha–and for Yamcha to like it, at least a little–that was just bizarre.

Except was it, really? He liked Vegeta a lot, too. He’d grown to really care about him, and maybe those feelings went a little beyond friendship. He’d lost count of the times he’d caught himself accidentally checking Vegeta out, and as much as he found Vegeta was watching him, he was watching Vegeta just as often. Yamcha bit his lip. Well. What was he supposed to do now?

Vegeta scoffed, dragging Yamcha from his panicked thoughts. “I suppose this is the part where you tell me to get out.”

“No, I–” Yamcha put his hands on Vegeta’s shoulders and did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed him back.


	52. Trust Me (Tien/Launch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "if ur still taking requests, can i ask for some of that sweet tien/launch with 22 (“I can’t explain it right now, but I need you to trust me on this.”)?"

Tien froze, panicked. Launch pressed against him, peering around him to see around the corner. The bricks of the wall scraped against Tien’s back and he didn’t move. He could easily overpower her, shove her away and demand to know what was going on, but he didn’t. He stared at her, trying not to think about her body pressed against his, her hand over his mouth preventing him from speaking.

“Well, shit,” she whispered, ducking back behind the wall. “I ain’t got enough bullets for this.” She looked up at him, and he stared back down at her with wide eyes. If they didn’t move soon, he might be in even worse trouble. “Look, I can’t explain it right now, but I need you to trust me on this.” Launch grinned. “You trust me, right big boy?”

He nodded, a little too quickly maybe, but he did trust her, and if she wanted him to help beat up a couple of rent-a-cops because she’d robbed a jewelry store, well, he hadn’t gotten enough exercise this week anyway.


	53. Perfect (Broly/Raditz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by nyazuline: "24 (Oh my God, you’re in love with them!) with............ broly/raditz ;)"

Yamcha plopped down on the bench next to Raditz and leaned back against the table. “So what’s eating you?”

Raditz glared at him. “Nothing.”

“Dude, you’re bouncing your leg hard enough to set off a Richter scale. You only do that when something’s bothering you. So what’s up? Maybe I can help.” Yamcha grinned at him. Something in Raditz’s gut clenched. It had been years since he’d first arrived on Earth, since he kidnapped his nephew and tried to eradicate all life on the planet. In that time, he’d tried to prove he was worthy of everything Kakarott had done for him. He’d fought monsters that far outstripped him in power, he’d _died_ trying to set things right. (He came back, but he’d still died.) But that wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t deserve the friendliness offered to him by Kakarott’s friends, by his nephew.

By _Broly_ , of all people.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “don’t worry your pretty head over it.”

Yamcha glared at him. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here. You’ve gotta talk about your feelings and shit with somebody and it may as well be me. You really want to hash your feelings out with Goku? Or worse, Vegeta? How about Piccolo, or Tien, or one of the other emotionally repressed assholes we keep hanging out with?” Raditz grimaced. None of those sounded appealing. Yamcha slugged him in the arm. “Come on, you can talk to me. I promise not to laugh.”

Raditz glanced across the park to where Broly was receiving meditation lessons from Piccolo. Ever since he’d crashed on Earth, he’d been making the same efforts as Raditz. Honestly, Raditz understood. There was something about Earth that made you want to protect it, even though it was as backwoods as planets got and probably wouldn’t even join the intergalactic community for a few more decades at best. It was quaint. And apparently, even the Legendary Super Saiyan himself wasn’t immune to its qualities.

That, at least, made him feel a little better.

“It’s like this,” he said, carefully choosing his words. “Now that Broly’s here, I feel like I should…I don’t know, try to be closer to him, I think? He’s one of only four remaining full-blooded Saiyans. And really…of all of us, I’m the oldest left. I’m the only one who remembers some of our traditions and stuff. Vegeta knows because Nappa made us learn, but he doesn’t care, and getting Kakarott to sit still long enough to learn anything takes either a miracle or six tons of rock.” Yamcha snorted. “But Broly–I don’t know. I just want to talk to him, I think. But he’s avoiding me because I look like Kakarott, and it bothers me. I’m not really sure why.”

Yamcha patted his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m sure Broly will warm up to you, Raditz. Hell, if Chi-Chi can, so can he.” He laughed and Raditz scowled. “Look, just go over and say hi, okay? It’s not hard. Maybe ask if you can join in the meditation lessons.”

Raditz bared his teeth. “I _hate_ meditation.” Most Saiyans hated sitting still by nature. Their blood called for action, for violence–meditation wasn’t something they generally put much stock in. The only reason Broly was agreeing to it was in an attempt to calm and control his insane power. “Besides, Piccolo still doesn’t like me.”

“Piccolo doesn’t like anyone except Gohan; I wouldn’t take it personally.” Raditz snorted. “Go on, it’ll be fun! Well, okay, not _fun_ , but it’ll be a start, anyway.”

Reluctantly, Raditz pulled himself to his feet. “If this goes badly, I’m blaming you.”

“Sure, whatever.” Yamcha waved him off. “Knock ‘em dead. Actually wait, no, don’t do that.”

“Too late,” Raditz called over his shoulder, sauntering towards Broly and Piccolo.

Broly looked up when Raditz approached and Piccolo immediately slapped his knee. “Concentrate, dammit,” he muttered.

“Raditz is here,” Broly said quietly, pointing.

Piccolo cracked an eye open and glared. “What?”

Raditz folded his arms. “I want to join in. That a problem?”

Broly perked up and turned to Piccolo. “Can he?”

Piccolo eyed Raditz, then sighed and closed his eye again. “Fine. So long as you’re quiet.”

~~~

Broly was becoming a problem.

Or, well, it wasn’t Broly himself that was the problem, if Raditz was being honest, but if there was one thing Raditz was good at it was not being honest with himself. He’d succeeded with his original plan of talking to Broly, getting a little closer to him, finding out more about him. And Broly was actually a really interesting guy. He was a lot quieter than Raditz expected when he wasn’t a screaming rage monster. He listened when Raditz talked–really listened, not just pretend-listening so Raditz would go away faster, or pity-listening. He seemed genuinely interested in Raditz and what he had to say.

And he was cute. Raditz wasn’t going to deny that. Broly was downright cute when he wasn’t the Legendary Super Saiyan, and having seen his other form Raditz could safely say that even as the Legendary Super Saiyan he was still hot as hell. He hated shirts in the same way that Raditz hated long pants, refusing to wear them unless strictly necessary.

The thing was that there was a sadness to him, a distance in his eyes, even when he was paying close attention to what was happening. Raditz could recognise it as the look of someone afraid of getting attached because they’re used to having what they want ripped from them without warning. He could empathize with it.

Broly laughed at Raditz’s jokes. Raditz prided himself on his awful, awful puns, sometimes getting into a pun-off with Yamcha to the dismay of everyone around them. And Broly laughed at every single one.

No, Broly himself wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Broly was _perfect_.

“Oh my God,” Yamcha said when Raditz told him all of this. “You’re in love with him.”

Raditz wrinkled his nose. “I am not.”

“You are!” Yamcha laughed and Raditz scowled. “Holy shit, you are _totally_ in love with him! That’s…that’s fucking hilarious oh my God.”

“When you’re done laughing at my expense,” Raditz snapped, “I’m _not_ in love with Broly. It’s just that he’s fucking _perfect_ and it’s making me feel even more inferior than usual, _jackassnot_ perfect. I mean yeah he’s got the Legendary thing going for him, which is cool I guess, but the guy can barely talk without running away, he’s literally freeloading at the Lookout until further notice because Goku begged Piccolo and Dende to let him, and he is the clumsiest person I’ve ever seen. Seriously, just yesterday I watched him bump into a china cabinet of Mrs. Briefs’s and almost cry about it. That kid’s got issues, Raditz. He’s not perfect.”

Raditz hesitated. None of that sounded all that bad to him.

“Secondly,” Yamcha continued, “you should ask him out.”

Raditz looked flatly at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on! It’d be fun!” Yamcha leaned in conspiratorially. “I bet he’s a real monster in bed, you know.”

He could _feel_ his face turning red. “That’s not–no, I’m–look, you don’t get it. Even if I wanted to ask him out, which I _don’t_ , he’s so much stronger than me.” Yamcha raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean much to you, but for Saiyans strength is everything. There’s too big a gap between us. And his father was decently high-ranking, or at least higher than my parents. So there’s that. I can’t ask him out. Not that I want to,” he added hastily. “It’s just…annoying, that he’s so great, that’s all.”

The smirk Yamcha gave him told him he wasn’t convinced. “Okay, sure. Whatever you say.” He stood up from the table and stretched. “Well, I guess I’m heading out. Say hi to Goku and Chi-Chi for me.”

~~~

“Raditz!”

Raditz pulled his blanket over his head. It was too early to be dealing with his sister-in-law’s yelling.

“Raditz, march your keister down here right this minute, bucko!”

He groaned and sat up, blinking blearily at the clock on the wall. It was _definitely_ too early for this. He didn’t bother getting dressed, deciding that Chi-Chi could deal with his star-printed boxers and worn-thin t-shirt as punishment for waking him so early. He dragged himself down the stairs, rubbing groggily at his face.

“Whatever you want better be important,” he started as he walked into the living room. What he saw immediately woke him up the rest of the way.

Broly stood in the middle of the living room, hands awkwardly at his sides. He perked up when Raditz made eye contact. Chi-Chi stood in front of him, glaring between Broly and Radiz. “He said he’s here to see you,” she said curtly. “Whatever it is, you two are settling this outside, and away from the house, you hear? If you’re going to get into fights I want you to leave my house out of it.”

“Oh, I’m not here to fight, ma’am,” Broly reassured her.

Chi-Chi seemed to relax at being addressed as ‘ma’am.’ “Well, take it outside anyway. Raditz, you can come have breakfast when you’re done.” She shooed them out of the house and shut the door behind her.

Raditz turned to Broly. “What the hell are you doing here?” Broly looked down and scratched his nose instead of replying. “Uh, Base 633 to Broly, you there?” He waved a hand in front of Broly’s face.

“Do you really think all those nice things about me?” Broly blurted.

Raditz blinked, then realisation dawned. “Y-you–have you been talking with Yamcha?”

Broly looked up at him with a smile, timid but wide. “Maybe.”

“I’m gonna kill him.” Raditz ran a hand through his hair and stalked around in a circle. “I’m gonna kill him _and_ his stupid cat.”

“Don’t,” Broly said, putting a hand on Raditz’s arm. Raditz almost flinched away, but held his ground. “If he hadn’t said anything I might not have known my feelings were returned.”

Wait.

“F-feelings?” he stammered. “You have–what kind of feelings?”

Broly stepped towards him and his smile brightened when Raditz didn’t move back. “Raditz, son of Bardock and Gine, would it be alright if I started courting you?”

A million thoughts and feelings flashed through Raditz’s mind at once–this was wrong, they were of completely different levels, they couldn’t be together, he didn’t like Broly like that, but yes he _did_ , and who _cared_ , they were on Earth now, they could play by Earth’s rules–before he nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

Broly’s smile was as perfect as the rest of him. “Courting starts now,” he murmured, and then his lips were on Raditz’s in a kiss Raditz hadn’t realised he’d been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you want to help me out [here's a link](https://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/commissions)


	54. Quit It or I'll Bite You (Piccolo and Gohan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous: "Piccolo would totally fit in number 3 (Quit it or I'll bite you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT!!!! a romantic one, please do not take this as Piccolo/Gohan

“Get off me.”

Gohan latched his arms around his mentor’s neck. “But I’m tired,” he whined.

“You barely exerted yourself in today’s training, and it’s not even midday. You’re fine. Now let go of me.” Piccolo stood tall, glaring at Gohan from the corner of his eye. Gohan just grinned at him and snuggled closer into his back. He knew Piccolo was all bluster. He didn’t mean half of what he said.

“I worked really hard today, though! And I’m hungry.” Gohan pouted. “Carry me home.”

Piccolo growled low in his throat, staring out at the river where Gohan’s dad was catching their lunch. “Quit it or I’ll bite you, kid.”

Okay, maybe he was being a little pushy. Maybe he should back off a little.

Or, he reasoned, he could always break out the puppy eyes. Those always worked.

“Please?” he begged, lip quivering, eyes wide and shining. Piccolo glanced at him and scowled, and Gohan knew he’d won.

“Fine,” Piccolo muttered, unfolding his arms and holding them out for Gohan to swing himself into. “But don’t think this is an everyday thing. I’m only doing this to shut you up.”

Gohan grinned. Piccolo had said the same thing every day for the last three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you want to help me out [here's a link](https://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/commissions)


	55. Or I Could Kiss You (Bulma/Chi-Chi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by fluffymccree: ""Or I could just kiss you." Either Bulma/ChiChi or Marceline/Princess Bubblegum!"

Chi-Chi’s head was going to split open. Every little sound was a roar, the soft light coming through her closed eyelids brought a dull ache. Her throat was dry and her stomach was trying to decide whether it would rebel or not.

She hadn’t had a hangover like this in years. She must have gotten pretty damn drunk.

Memories of what had happened the night before started to trickle back and she pulled the blanket over her head. All she wanted to do was hide from the world. She’d had half a bottle of wine to herself before Bulma even got to her house, and then the two of them proceeded to get completely plastered while complaining about men the _entire_ time.

Chi-Chi wanted to scream into her pillow, but the noise would just make her headache worse. She never acted that way. But she’d been in such a shitty mood, and when Bulma had called her to ask if it was alright for Goten to stay the night and heard how upset Chi-Chi sounded, she’d come over right away. She’d suggested maybe having a glass of wine to help calm down, and maybe Chi-Chi had gone a little too far with that, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

She heard the door open and buried herself further into her bundle of blankets and pillows. She wasn’t ready to face the world yet.

“Hi,” Bulma said softly. Something clunked against the bedside table and the mattress shifted as Bulma sat. “I brought you some water. Figured you could use it.” She kept her voice low and quiet, and Chi-Chi appreciated it.

Slowly, she inched out from under the pillows and squinted at Bulma. The light hurt her eyes and she had to blink several times to be able to see properly. “How do you not feel like hell?” she croaked. Gods, she even _sounded_ terrible. She was a disgusting mess, her hair sticking out at odd angles, her face feeling like it was going to fall off, barely able to force out words. It was a sharp contrast to how glamorous Bulma looked, as usual, despite the fact that she’d just spent the night on a couch and was probably nursing her own hangover.

“I didn’t have nearly as much to drink last night as you did,” Bulma reminded her, reaching for the glass. “You were pretty out of it when I put you to bed.” Was Chi-Chi still drunk, or was Bulma blushing? Maybe both. “Here.” Bulma helped her take a few sips of water before putting the cup back and rubbing Chi-Chi’s back. Chi-Chi closed her eyes and leaned forward, resting her head on Bulma’s shoulder as her hand rubbed circles into her upper back. “Feel nice?” Bulma murmured.

“Mm.” Chi-Chi still felt terrible, but Bulma’s hand was soothing, as were her attempts to take care of Chi-Chi. “Thanks for staying with me,” she mumbled, clutching the sheets.

“Hey, of course.” The hand slowed, but stayed where it was. “Listen…Chi, how much of last night do you remember?”

Chi-Chi blinked. “Not tons. I drank a few bottles of wine, complained about how unreliable men are, especially Saiyans, and couldn’t get to my bedroom by myself. Why? Did I say something stupid?”

“N-no.” Chi-Chi frowned. She hadn’t heard Bulma stutter in years. “I mean, not really. I mean…I shouldn’t have brought it up. Never mind.”

“No, now I have to know.” Chi-Chi sat up to try and look Bulma in the eye. “What did I do?”

“Have some more water,” Bulma said, obviously trying to change the subject. Chi-Chi squinted at her and she squirmed. “Alright, fine. I was helping you get changed and you told me you were tired of men.” Chi-Chi remembered that. “And you said you wanted something different. And then you tried to kiss me.”

Oh. Chi-Chi certainly didn’t remember _that_. Oh no.

“I didn’t let you, of course,” Bulma added quickly. “You were drunk, I’d had a few drinks myself, it wasn’t a good idea. But you said you’d always liked me and you thought I was pretty and…” Bulma swallowed. “Well, I finished helping you into bed and booked it. I thought about going back to Capsule Corp but I was still pretty drunk and I didn’t like the thought of you waking up to an empty house, so…”

“So you stayed.” Chi-Chi’s hand found Bulma’s and squeezed it. “Thank you for telling me.”

Bulma looked back at Chi-Chi. “So is it true?” she asked. “Do you like me?”

Chi-Chi looked down at her hand clasping Bulma’s. What could she say? Lie and say it was just the alcohol talking, possibly ruining her chances of Bulma accepting her feelings? Or tell the truth and possibly ruin her friendship with the woman she’d been quietly in love with for a few years now?

“Chi-Chi.” Bulma’s fingers tilted Chi-Chi’s chin up to look her in the eyes again. “We need to have this conversation sooner or later.”

Steeling her self, Chi-Chi took a breath. “Or I could just kiss you,” she said, leaning forward.

Bulma’s fingers quickly covered Chi-Chi’s lips. “Wait, hang on, you’re still drunk.”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are. You don’t stop being drunk just because you’re hung over.” Bulma reached for the water again. “We’ll have this conversation later, okay? I mean…now I guess I know where you stand on it.” She handed Chi-Chi the glass and moved away. She stood awkwardly next to the bed for a moment before gingerly pressing a kiss to Chi-Chi’s forehead. “Just give me a bit to figure out where I stand.” And she disappeared.

Chi-Chi smiled into her water. Maybe getting drunk with Bulma wasn’t such a bad idea as she’d first thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you want to help me out [here's a link](https://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/commissions)


	56. Let's Dance (Raditz/Jeice)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by lilyrosethedreamer: "Rice and "I know this is awkward, my friend saw that I was alone at the dance and they pulled you over to dance with me and I’m sorry" (the one about being alone and having nobody to dance with thing), please."

“I’m so sorry about this.”

The man–Raditz–cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it.” Was he blushing? He looked like he was, but with the terrible club lighting and all the hair in his face, it was hard to tell.

Jeice eyed the hand on his waist. “You’re not half bad at this, actually.” They weren’t pressed close like most of the other couples for the slow set, but they also weren’t really a couple, either. And he wasn’t just saying that, either–the man was a decent enough dancer, if not quite up to the rigid standards set by Jeice and his friends. But they were the best of the best; of course no one else was up to their standards. “When I saw Burter dragging you over I half expected he’d found someone who couldn’t dance for shite and was expecting me to give lessons.”

Raditz laughed, throwing his head back, and Jeice hadn’t thought it was _that_ funny, but alright. “Lessons? You a dance teacher or something?”

“Or something.”

The hand on his waist squeezed a little and he felt himself flush. “Well, uh, to be honest, I originally thought your friend–Burter?–when he was pulling me to the dance floor, I originally thought _he_ wanted to dance with me.”

Something in Jeice’s chest sank, and he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he _cared_ whether this buff, hairy, handsome stranger wanted to dance with him or not.

But he asked “are you disappointed he didn’t?” without thinking anyway.

“Nah,” came the immediate, easy reply. “He’s not my type.”

Jeice raised an eyebrow. “Am _I_ your type?”

Raditz winked down at him. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey if you want to help me out [here's a link](https://agirlnameded.tumblr.com/commissions)


	57. Your Mistake (Raditz/Yamcha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by greentrickster: "For the prompts thing 45 ("do you trust me?") with Radcha, please!"

“I thought you Saiyans lived for fighting.”

Raditz cracked an eye open to send a one-eyed glare at Yamcha. “Go away.”

“I’m just saying.” Yamcha floated next to the branch that Raditz had been stretched out on, happily half-asleep until Yamcha showed up to ruin his fun. “Everyone else is training to fight the androids, and you’re here. Aren’t you excited like Goku and Vegeta? This kind of stuff is like…your whole thing, isn’t it?”

Raditz closed his eye. “Not really, no. Now go away.”

“Wait, really?” Yamcha sounded genuinely surprised. “Literally all Goku talks about is fighting, and when Vegeta’s _not_ talking about fighting or surpassing Goku it’s all about how fighting is Saiyan pride or some shit.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s the only Saiyan left who thinks like that.” Raditz opened his eyes and sat up properly, swinging his legs over the branch to face Yamcha properly. “Kakarott’s just punch-happy, and Vegeta’s probably going to get himself killed again one of these days with his bullshit. I’m more pragmatic in my old age.”

Yamcha snorted. “You’re not old.”

“Maybe not, but I’m older than both of them. And I’ve seen more shit than they have because of it. And I’m the only one who actually _listened_ when Nappa told us about shit.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s good to know when you can’t win a fight.”

Yamcha blinked. “You…think you’ll lose?”

“I think if Kakarott can’t beat them, then the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

“That’s not pragmatic, that’s defeatist.”

“Same difference.” Raditz shrugged again. “I’m not training if I’m just going to die anyway. I’d rather do something else. Like sleep.”

Yamcha was quiet for a moment, searching Raditz’s face. It made him uncomfortable for some reason. Yamcha always seemed to be able to see exactly what Raditz was going through, even if he didn’t tell him. Finally, Yamcha nodded. “Well, the way I see it, we’re definitely going to lose if we just do our usual thing of fighting one-on-one. That’s how we’ve always done it. We always seem to stick to tournament rules in the interest of fairness.” He grinned. “There’s two of them and nine of us. I say we fight dirty. These are evil monsters bent on destroying the world. There’s no rulebook.”

Radtiz stared. “But…aren’t you supposed to be one of the good guys?”

Yamcha scoffed. “Please. I used to be a bandit.” Raditz’s eyes widened. “Never told you that, did they?” Yamcha said smugly. “I used to beat people up and take their valuables all the time. I’m fine with fighting dirty.” He held out his hand. “What do you say? Want to train with me?”

Raditz hesitated. Yamcha was persuasive, he’d give him that.

“Come on.” Yamcha wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Don’t you trust me?”

A sick feeling settled in Raditz’s stomach as he realised that yes, he _did_ trust Yamcha, or at least he trusted him more than most of Kakarott’s friends. Yamcha was honest and open and he talked to Raditz like a normal person, teasing and all. He wasn’t _scared_ of Raditz like Gohan and Krillin, he didn’t hate him like Vegeta and Piccolo, he didn’t ignore him like Chi-Chi and Tien. Yamcha treated Raditz like one of the gang. And that was apparently enough reason for Raditz to trust him. He swallowed and nodded, reaching out to take Yamcha’s hand.

Yamcha’s grin widened. “Your mistake!”

The next thing Raditz knew, he was flying over Yamcha’s shoulder and crashing into the ground, Yamcha’s laughter ringing in his ears. “Come on, Raditz, we’re training! You can’t let your guard down!”

Raditz blinked up at Yamcha, then started to laugh as he pulled himself to his feet and threw himself into their training in earnest. Now _this_ was his kind of guy.


	58. Hold Me (Gohan/Videl/Dende)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by fullbattleregalia: "Hiya Ed! I saw you posted a prompts post! And, if you're still taking prompts, could you do Super Nerd Patrol with 52: “ Can we cuddle? ” Please? ❤️"

Videl dragged herself into the Lookout’s main sitting area and flopped down on the couch with a melodramatic groan. “Long day?” Dende asked, not looking up from his book.

“I’m gonna beat someone up,” she declared. “Right after my nap. I’m dying.”

He patted her foot, the only part of her he could reach from his seat in the armchair. “There, there.”

Gohan wandered into the room, arms full of books, stopping when he saw Videl. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

She waved him off. “I hate people. Let’s leave it at that.”

Dende looked over at her. “Do you need anything?”

Videl sat up. “Actually, can we cuddle? I’ve had a shitty day and I need some contact.”

Gohan flushed, but nodded. Dende smiled and stood up. They sat on either side of her, arms around her, and she pulled them closer, head resting on top of Dende’s and one hand threaded in Gohan’s hair. They stayed like that for a while, and Dende thought the other two were asleep until Gohan spoke up. “Feel less like beating people up now?”

“Mm.” Videl kissed the top of Dende’s head, then leaned away to kiss Gohan as well. “Mostly. You know I’m always ready to throw down.” Dende giggled. “But I do feel better.” She squeezed them tighter. “Thanks, guys.”


End file.
